Sarah vs the Getaway
by charah409
Summary: Sarah told Chuck she didn't feel it anymore. But even as she said it, she thanked the CIA training that made her a world class liar. When she came back, and heard Morgan's idea for a magic kiss, she almost lied again, and said it worked. Trying to deal with the fact that she has feelings for a man who she barely knows, Chuck and Sarah embark upon a roadtrip together. Smut abounds.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So. A different take on the ending kiss. And on the post-finale in general. Because there's not nearly enough aggressive-Sarah in post-finale fic.

Also, not cutting away when there's a sex scene. So, uh... there's your smut warning. M rated for language and extensive sexual content. That isn't to say this is just going to be wall to wall Charah smut. This will have a plot, in _addition_ to Charah smut.

I: Sarah vs The Lie

Chuck and Sarah finally came apart when oxygen became a concern. It had been an amazing kiss, not the most passionate perhaps, but there had been a connection in it that had made Chuck's heart surge with hope. He licked his lips and tried to catch his breath. He didn't want to ask, Morgan's idiot magic kiss idea could never have worked, but he could feel the moment becoming more and more awkward as it drew out. At last, he cleared his throat. "So?" he said softly.

Sarah averted her eyes from his and shook her head, disappointment clear in the slump of her shoulders. "No, I didn't remember anything new."

Chuck found his fingers twined through hers and didn't know which of them had initiated it. "I'm so sorry. It was silly to get our hopes up. So. What are you going to do now?"

Sarah rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand gently, looking at their linked fingers. She glanced up at him through the curtain of her golden hair.

"Chuck, I lied."

"What? You mean it worked?"

"No," she snorted. "Not about that. Before, when I left to go after Quinn. And then after I came back too..."

Chuck felt himself holding his breath. What could she be talking about. It sounded momentous.

"When I said I didn't feel it," she said.

The tension in his chest released. His hand came up and tucked stray hair behind her ear, fingers lingering perhaps a moment longer than he intended. She shivered just slightly and leaned into the touch before he brought his hand down.

"That was the lie. It was the first thing to come back, and I've been fighting it for almost the whole time. At first I fought it because I was still convinced Quinn was telling the truth. I still don't remember _why _I feel like this. I kept trying to figure out what you could be using to make me constantly want to jump your bones. I considered everything, like maybe you were drugging my food or had special pheromone cologne or something. But I was already halfway to the truth when Quinn revealed himself as the D-bag of all d-bags.

I told you I didn't feel it because that was the only way I could make myself walk out on you. I had to tell myself the same thing, the other possibility was too big. But then being apart it creeped back up on me, and now it's so intense. I was trying so hard to stay professional, and you're just so sweet all the time. I'm honestly a little scared, Chuck. Was, still am. It's really hard for me to admit that, you know?"

"Of course I do," Chuck said, a grin cracking his expression. "I know you."

"See that's half of what scares me. You know me, but I only know you from the last couple weeks and listening to my old lovestruck video diary..." she heaved a put-upon sigh. "That grin of yours is also completely unfair."

"How so?" Chuck asked seriously.

"I've never felt this way," she said. "Or I guess I have and just don't remember. Every time you flash that grin at me I want to drop my panties, throw you on the ground and get stuck in."

Chuck tried to choke on his tongue. Sarah grinned. "A little more frank than we usually talk about sex?"

"Yeah. A little," he said. He squeezed her hand gently. "Don't take that as a complaint though. God, this is a weird situation."

"Granted."

"So I don't know how to say this... the uh, the panty dropping and... so on..." he blushed a little even saying it. He hadn't been so tongue tied and easily flustered around Sarah in years.

"Oh I'm _completely_ serious. If anything I'm underselling it."

Chuck swallowed. "Okay, that's um... good to hear. And you've got your own totally unfair cuteness tricks that I will not reveal to you out of self-preservation. So you're not alone in that respect. But that's not what I was getting at. I'm just- is it just physical?"

"I don't think so. That's partly why I wanted to hear our story. It helped me wrap my mind around things better. I'm not really one to express emotions very well. Except physically. So I was being literal before. That grin of yours? Ugh! Usually a cute grin isn't nearly enough, right? Not for me at least." She shook her head in wonder. "But with you it is. So yeah, it's not just physical, okay? The physical part is just really difficult for me to put aside, which isn't exactly the norm for me either. It's a little frustrating. Weird doesn't begin to describe it."

"It's okay for this not to make sense right now, Sarah. I understand how hard this has got to be. I can't imagine losing my memories of the last five years with you, I don't know if I could stand it. I'm not as strong as you."

"Dummy," Sarah said. "I've probably told you this before. But you are amazingly strong. Using the glasses like you did, to save all those people instead of letting me try to bring back my memories with them? I wouldn't have been able to do that if our positions had been reversed. I wouldn't have even have considered it."

"I'm sorry. Maybe I could have figured some other way-"

"No, don't," Sarah pressed her hand over his mouth. "Don't play the what if game. Don't be the sexy self sacrificing hero with me right now. I don't think I could handle that right now."

Chuck frowned under her palm and gently peeled her hand away. He tried to look into her eyes for the answer. "What do you mean? I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable. I didn't..."

Sarah glared at him and Chuck's voice trailed off. He swallowed. That was a glare he remembered. The one that usually presaged him being pinned to the nearest convenient flat surface and mauled.

"That's right," Sarah nodded slowly, apparently satisfied he'd recognized that glare. "One more comment like that and I'll be forced to mount you right here on the beach."

Chuck swallowed again before he could say anything. "I don't want to rush you into anything Sarah, you're too important to-"

Sarah groaned. And then pounced. Even though she was sitting cross-legged, somehow one moment she was sitting next to him, the next moment she was straddling his hips, pinning his wrists to the sand over his head and kissing him silly. "What did I say?" Chuck finally said when she moved on from kissing his lips to explore the side of his neck.

"Just shut up and kiss back, dummy." She took one of his hands and tugged it free of the sand, up around her back and planted it firmly on her rear end. The other she placed over her breast. Sarah captured his lips again and ground herself down harder on him.

"Hey, you two wanna take this someplace else? This is a family beach," Chuck felt Sarah reaching for her knife before she registered the man's uniform. She only just managed to halt the throw and tuck the knife away unseen.

"Right away sir!" Chuck said squirming out from under her.

Sarah let him get away momentarily and turned to sit next to him. They pretended contrition long enough for the security guard to continue his slow patrol of the beach and pier area. They sat in awkward silence for a time, watching the man stroll away.

Finally, Sarah glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. "You're not freaked out, are you? I came on a little strong there, didn't I?"

"Not _that _strong," Chuck said. "I mean, still top three or four, easy."

"What was number one?" Sarah said. A devilish smile on her lips.

"Thailand," Chuck said without hesitation. "You remember anything about Thailand?"

"No. I don't think so anyway. I went there on a mission one time, but there was nothing sexy about it," Sarah shrugged. "I went undercover at a kickboxing tournament. So what happened in Thailand the time you're talking about?"

"I did kind of gloss over that when I told you our story, huh? It wasn't the best. I'd been kidnapped by some very bad people, and you kind of went a little nuts. I actually kind of don't want to tell you some of this..."

"Why not?" Sarah said dangerously. "You cheat on me? Sex tourism is a thriving industry in that part of the world."

"What? No!" Chuck said. "Why would you ask that. Of course not. Never in a million years."

"Ok. Then what?" She nudged his shoulder with her own.

"Well, you cut quite a swathe through the local bad guy population, trying to find me. By the time you did track me down, a pretty large percentage of the Thai underworld was referring to you in terrified whispers as 'the giant blond shemale.'"

"Giant blond _WHAT!" _Sarah exclaimed, drawing the security guard's attention. He started strolling back their way.

"See that's why I didn't want to tell you. But, um... maybe we should think about relocating this talk if we don't want an audience," Chuck said.

"Uh, yeah that's... that's probably a good idea," Sarah said in his ear, cocking an eyebrow in the direction of the approaching rent-a-cop.. "We're not very into exhibitionism, are we?"

"No," Chuck said. "God, no."

"Just making sure," she grinned wickedly. "I figured we weren't, judging by how red you turned just forcing yourself to say the word panties... ha, there you go again. I can imagine making you blush and stammer being a very favorite pastime of mine."

Chuck merely nodded and groaned in agreement. Sarah clambered to her feet and offered him a hand up.

"We taking both cars?" Sarah said.

"Yeah, probably best not to have to drive back out here later. But, um... are you coming back to stay? Or just to talk?"

"Oh. Talk? Well I guess we could do that too, but I thought we were going back to the apartment to have wild nasty monkey sex."

Chuck tripped over his own feet and went down flat on his face. He rolled over and spit out a mouthful of sand. "You did that on purpose."

Sarah smirked down at him for a moment. "Yup. Though, let's not rule anything out, right?" The wink she shot him was just classic naughty-Sarah, and Chuck nearly fell over in the process of trying to get to his feet.

"Seriously, cut that out!" Chuck said, brushing himself off and getting up again. His eyes narrowed as they walked into the parking lot and he leaned against his car, peering over the roof at her. "Okay, nice try."

"What?" Sarah said looking up from unlocking her own car.

"You dodged the question by making me think about sexytimes," Chuck said. "You haven't been able to get away with that consistently in a couple of years. Okay yeah, you can still put on a sexy outfit and get me to spill any particular beans you want at the drop of well, I was going to say a hat, but..."

She grinned. "Yeah, I get it, Chuck."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"Well, it was kind of an unfair question, don't you think?"

Chuck winced. "Yeah, I do see that. But our finances are still linked so it's germane. You probably went through most of your emergency funds on the hunt for Quinn, right? So, if you don't want to stay at my place, our place-terminology on this is bugging the crap out of me-can I still call it our place?"

"Just call it 'the apartment' for now," Sarah said.

"Okay. I've got your debit cards and stuff you left, so if you want to get a hotel room instead you can use those."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, alright? Chuck, let's just go to your- the apartment, and... how about we just take this one day at a time? One step at a time? If it gets to be too much, I promise I'll talk to you before I decide anything unilaterally. Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

The drive back to Echo Park in separate cars seemed interminable but finally they pulled into the parking lot. Sarah sat in her car for a moment, watching Chuck climb out of his car. She chewed her lip nervously. Chuck bent to look at her through the windshield in concern, and she smiled at him and shrugged. She slid out of the car and went to him. Chuck wasn't expecting a bear-hug, obviously; he staggered back a step before she felt his arms close around her. Just a hug. She wasn't going to try and stick her tongue down his throat until they were at least back inside the apartment, but even that felt amazing. Just being held by him was a rush of sensation.

She pulled away a little, just enough to go up on her toes and peer over his shoulder into the courtyard. Sarah kind of dreaded going back into the place where she'd tried to kill the love of her life. It was still weird thinking of him that way. But she could feel that it was true, all of the things he'd told her at the beach rang true, even if he'd gone a little light on the details to save time. "What's wrong?" Chuck whispered in her ear.

Sarah shook her head. "Nothing, come on." She seized his hand and led him toward the apartment, then crossed her arms impatiently waiting for him to unlock the door. Finally he got the door open and waved her in ahead of him. Sarah put a seductive sway into her walk and was gratified to hear him groan.

Chuck was watching her when she turned back around to face him, a thoughtful expression on his face. Sarah bit her lip and moved closer, grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into another hug. She peered up at him and marvelled once more at the sense of closeness it gave her just to be folded up into his arms.

"So what else happened in Thailand?"

Chuck shrugged uncomfortably. "They tried to erase everything in my brain that wasn't the Intersect. You got there and saved me at literally the last second before they finalized the brain wipe."

"Oh god," Sarah said. "That- like your whole brain?"

"Yeah, but you got there in time. I only lost a couple of surface details. I forgot my birthdate for a while, and other little things. But I at least knew who everybody in my life still was. It's wasn't nearly as bad as what you're going through."

"At least you knew you'd forgotten things," Sarah said. "I just... it's taking a lot of getting used to. Aside from a couple of tiny things, it's like. I traveled through time or something. Can we sit down?"

"I've actually got some sand in uncomfortable places. Can I go take a shower first?"

"Mm... good idea. Care for some company?"

Chuck blushed and swallowed nervously. It was too cute. Sarah swooped in and gave him a quick smooch. That was her intention anyway, a quick kiss because he'd blushed and she thought it was cute. That didn't turn out to be the case, his arms went around her and the kiss became more intense, lingering. Sarah leaned into him and opened her mouth, deepening the contact. Chuck pulled away after more than a few seconds, breathing hard. "Sarah, we don't need to rush into anything."

She kissed him more insistently, and her hands went for his belt. Chuck grabbed her wrists and broke the kiss with a start. "Chuck, I want this," She said. "It's not like we've never done this before, right?" She moved her next kiss to his neck.

Chuck groaned. "That's not... oh god... Sarah that's not the point."

"Okay, what is the point, then?" Sarah was becoming frustrated now.

"I just want you to know. To really _know, _that I don't expect anything of you. I don't expect this to go any further tonight. I'll sleep on the couch with no questions asked. We can just talk if you want. I know you're still thinking of you and 'my Sarah' as two different people. That I fell in love with you because you changed over the last five years."

She shook her head, but more because he somehow knew her so well. More evidence, if she needed it, that they had been as close as Chuck was always insisting. "Didn't you?" she finally forced the words out, her voice small and scared, eyes downcast.

He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Sarah, no. You have to realize that, if we're going to make this work. Yes. I grew to love you more and more with every passing day. And I still do. But the girl that I first fell in love with wasn't the five years later Sarah." he nudged a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to him. "It was your strength above anything else that first made me fall for you. The grit and the determination, and so many other things. The kickass ninja-spy girl who stole my heart. And please believe me when I say that you managed that within the first two weeks I knew you. I'm a good judge of character."

It was Sarah's turn to swallow nervously around a lump in her throat. Suddenly she was holding back tears, which seldom happened to her. What the hell?! "Okay," she said trying to keep her voice steady. "Now there's absolutely _no_ chance I'm letting you shower by yourself." She grinned. "Ever."

He laughed and shook his head. "Are you sure? We can- probably should give it time before we jump into-" she silenced that line of thought with another smoldering kiss. "Ugh, you're too tall. I have to keep going up on tiptoes to kiss you properly."

"Hang on," Chuck said, and backed her a few steps into the kitchen. His hands suddenly dipped to her cup her ass, and Sarah tensed. Hadn't he just been talking about going slow? But he just boosted her up, and then she was sitting on the high counter, and he was at almost the perfect height.

"You've done that before," she said. It came out with maybe a touch more accusation than she intended, and Sarah winced internally, hoping Chuck wouldn't overreact.

"Once or twice," Chuck grinned. "We spent a week when you first moved in figuring that sort of thing out. Whether the height of certain flat surfaces around the apartment was... appropriate."

She nodded slowly, grinning at the thought of methodically trying out all the spots to have sex. That made sense. It sounded like something _she_ would do, as the idea of herself actually getting married never had. Reconciling herself with five years later Sarah seemed that little bit more manageable. Sarah looked into his eyes and bit her lip. She spread her legs and tugged his shirt to bring him close enough to kiss. It started off relatively innocent, but then his tongue met hers and the kiss deepened; Sarah kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs around Chuck's back to stop him from getting away. His hands went around her, and then one slid under her shirt. He didn't run his hand up and unhook her bra as Sarah half-expected. Chuck was still taking his time. But his hand was warm against her skin. Or maybe she was just warm. She was wearing entirely too many clothes. She could feel a bead of sweat trickling down between her breasts.

She moaned low in her throat and Chuck pulled away to grin at her, setting off a flare of heat through her core, before he moved back in and kissed the side of her jaw, then just behind her ear, her neck. She tugged his shirt out of the back of his pants and thrust her hands up to feel the heat of his skin. Her legs tightened around behind him, ankles locking together more securely. She scooted her hips forward, greedy to feel him pressing against her.

Sarah's eyes widened when she felt his stiffness through his pants, sending another thrill down her spine. He latched onto her collarbone with his lips and she let out a gasp. "Why don't we get... to that shower now?" she said.

"It's our second first time," Chuck shrugged. "I want it to be special for you."

She bit her lip. "I'm so keyed up already, Chuck. I just want you inside me. We don't have to go to the shower. I'm at about the right height right here, aren't I?"

"The bed is more romantic than either, but I don't want to get sand in the sheets. If we could shower separately..."

Sarah shook her head. "No. I can't wait that long, Chuck. I need you."

"Okay, do you want to let go so you can stand up?"

"No," she said, legs tightening around his waist and grinding him against her. She stifled a moan. "I really don't want to let you go."

"Okay," Chuck said. "Then hold on tight."

Sarah's eyes widened in shock as his hands gripped her butt again and he lifted her up off the counter. She gripped him with her legs and arms and squeezed tight against his chest, getting as close to him as their fully clothed state would allow. Chuck carried her like that down the hall to the bathroom, a little unsteady on his feet from holding her up. Every step ground her crotch into him and sent more electricity up her spine. Sarah muffled groans into his chest. He kicked the door shut behind him and Sarah loosened her hold on him slightly, so she could raise her head and whisper in his ear. "God, I'm so wet right now..."

Chuck froze in her arms and looked down at her for a moment, and then his lips met hers tenderly but fiercely. She moaned into his mouth and finally forced herself to unlock her ankles from the small of his back and retake her feet. Sarah pushed him out to arms length and started yanking his shirt off over his head. Chuck was a little slow, and he had to struggle against her insistent tugging to get his arms up properly. And then the shirt was gone, and Sarah bent to kiss his chest.

Chuck gasped and pulled her tight against him. "I hope you know turnabout is fair play," he said.

Sarah shivered at the thought, and then he was tugging the hem of _her _shirt up. Sarah darted her hands up immediately. They still got a little tangled up, but finally her shirt went to join his on the floor. Chuck's hands were hot on her ribs, one coming up to slip the strap of her bra down off her shoulder. His lips found the spot he'd just bared and Sarah bit off a moan. That shouldn't be anywhere near as sexy as it was. She dug her fingers through his hair and tugged him away from her shoulder so she could try to ram her tongue down his throat. But Chuck's tongue met hers.

She went for his belt again, and this time Chuck let her slip it open and nudge his pants down. Chuck kicked his shoes off and stepped out of his pants. He broke the kiss and went back to her shoulder, kissing just a little lower this time, down into her cleavage, but he left her bra alone for now. That wouldn't do. Sarah twisted her arms around behind her back and unclasped her bra, shrugged out of it and tossed it aside. Chuck pulled back and blinked down at her chest for a moment, nonplussed.

"I guess we found our next mission: the case of the disappearing bra," Chuck said.

Sarah pointed to the growing pile of clothing on the bathroom tiles. "Mystery solved." She pressed her bare breasts into his chest and went up on her toes to kiss him, grinding against his chest. Without his pants in the way, she could feel the heat of his erection through the thin cotton boxer-briefs. Without even stopping to think about it, her hand darted under the waistband of his shorts and gripped him gently, fingers exploring. Chuck gasped and tried to pull away from the kiss. But Sarah still had a grip on his hair and held on, gliding her fist down the length of him.

His hands slid up her sides and cupped her breasts, pushing into the tiny gap between them and kneading gently. His thumbs and forefingers found her nipples and Sarah's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers went slack for a moment, and Chuck tore himself away from her lips.

He went down to one knee and his hands left her breasts, suddenly cold and nipples erect. She tried to take a step back herself in surprise, but he was already unbuttoning her jeans. He grinned up at her and slid his fingers into the waistband of her panties, front and rear, yanking jeans and black lace bikini briefs down around her knees in one powerful jerk. Her eyes went as wide as they would go, shocked at the roughness, the eagerness he was displaying. She liked it. Chuck ran one hand up her calf, past her knee and rubbed slow sensuous circles along her inner thigh as he used the other to slip her foot free of the tangle of jeans and panties around her ankles. She shivered as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her calf and switched to the other leg. Sarah lifted her foot slightly to allow him to get her other leg free more easily, then kicked her pants onto the discard pile. She grinned down at him. There was an imbalance in their clothing again, and she decided then and there that she would remove those tight boxer-briefs with her damn _teeth._

But Chuck had other ideas; his breathing was ragged as he gazed at the bounty before him. Their eyes met. He still had hold of Sarah's leg, and lifted it up. Sarah wobbled and caught her balance by putting one hand on top of his head. Chuck grinned and shifted closer, pressing a wet kiss to her torso just where the waist of her panties had been moments before licking his way down. Sarah's eyes went wider still. He wasn't going to- he was!

Chuck propped her leg up onto his shoulder and gripped her opposite buttock gently as he darted in to suck on her clit. He just went right for it, fingers on his free hand rubbing the hood up out of the way and his tongue lapping at her insistently. "Oh god! Just- agh, Chuck, you don't need to do-oooh... that..." she was panting now. "I'm ready already!"

Chuck pulled away long enough to give her a wolfish smile. "I can see that from down here, you know," he said, and went back to it. His lips made a wet smacking, sucking noise against her and Sarah lurched, trying to maintain her balance as her eyes went unfocused. God, where had he learned _that_! And she knew; of course she knew. Her face was on fire with the knowledge that he'd probably done this to her before a hundred times. Or more! His tongue flicked around and up and down her expertly. Sarah gasped and panted and moaned and she half-staggered backward, bouncing on the one foot that still had traction on the tiles. Chuck broke free of her long enough to grin up at her and ease her ass up against the sink so she wouldn't fall over. She gripped the porcelain tightly one handed behind her back.

"Chuck, I'm-" he didn't wait for her to finish the thought, diving back into her pussy tongue first. Now that the hand on her ass wasn't needed to help steady her, those fingers came into play as well. She should have expected it, but they still came as a shock. Chuck slipped a finger up into her and sucked her pussy lips into his mouth. A second finger wiggled its way inside her and spread her open just enough to hit just the right spot. "Oh god!" Sarah moaned, eyes drifting shut and grabbing a handful of his hair to hold his head in place as she thrust her hips forward against his ministrations. The probing fingers fingers paused and then crooked and stroked confidently in long arcs inside the tigthening flesh of her pussy. Sarah felt her whole body beginning to tense, her coreclenching harder than ever around his fingers. His tongue and thumb competed for time grinding at her clitoris counterpoint to his fingers wiggling away inside her. Her mouth hung open in shock at the waves up pleasure running up from the liquid fire of her center. She'd never felt anything like this before. Her breath came in huge gulps, only cooling the fire momentarily. Sarah squirmed trying halfheartedly to get away from the relentless fingers and tongue wet and slick against her, inside her. Sweat was running down her neck, her back, in between her breasts, like she'd just sprinted a mile. It tickled and inflamed her all the more, gooseflesh ran down her arms and legs and sides.

Sarah heard a high pitched keening and knew it was her own voice, broken up by her gasps for more air. She tried to stop it, but only managed to turn the volume of it down slightly. Chuck's fingers broke their rhythm, suddenly thrusting up into her sopping folds hard, almost roughly, two three, half a dozen times, and the world came apart in sparks and flashes of light.

When Sarah came back to herself, she was in a bed, on her back, legs wrapped around a head of brown curly hair she recognized immediately. She let go with her thighs and Chuck pulled back, looking up at her grinning hungrily. She could see the eiffel tower out the window. Mmm... much better than her first trip to paris.

Sarah blinked, and looked down at that same grin, still trying to catch her breath. What the hell had that been? A memory, or just a figment of her pleasure-addled brain?

"Where'd you go?" Chuck said.

Sarah let out a breathy sigh. "Heaven, I think."

Chuck blushed faintly.

She shimmied her hips to disengage, settled the leg he'd draped over his shoulder back onto the tile floor. Cold! Sarah grabbed his hands and tugged him up to his feet, turned to put his back to the sink and kissed him dead center in the chest, working her way down. Her legs were rubbery, barely up to holding her weight anyway, so in a way it was good that she was heading for her knees. Time to fulfill her wifely duties. And after what he'd just given her, she was actually looking forward to- He caught her under the armpits and hoisted her back upright. Sarah's mouth fell open.

"Shower, remember?"

She raised an eyebrow, glanced down at the tent he made in his boxer-briefs, then met his eyes. "But..."

"I don't expect _anything _of you, Sarah."

"You're saying no, though? To me? To _that_?" Sarah said incredulously. "I_ want_ to..."

He kissed her softly. "Later," he said. "If you still want to."

His hands squeezed her ass and then darted lower, looking to spread her thighs apart. Sarah figured it out a moment later and gave a little hop. Chuck caught her and she wrapped herself around him, locked her ankles in the small of his back. He carried her the handful of steps to the shower stall and then let go with one hand long enough to open the shower and work the water. The only way to travel, she thought to herself, and then had to wonder if she'd had that thought before and couldn't remember. It almost spoiled the moment. Almost.

"Be a minute for the hot water," Chuck said into her neck. She could feel his erection pressing against the curve of her ass, wetness from her climax plastering the thin cotton to him. Sarah nodded and shimmied herself down him, awkward with his still-clothed erection poking her, out of his arms and ducked into the cold spray of water. She needed to cool off or he was going to give her a heart attack.

It was darker in the shower stall, and the cold water sent shivers down her spine as it soaked her back and dripped down her legs. She turned to face the spray and shuddered when the cold water hit her already near-painfully tight nipples. Sarah tilted her head up and opened her mouth, took a mouthful of water from the shower-head and swallowed it, shook her head to get the water into her hair faster.

She'd taken her eyes off Chuck, and when she turned toward him, he'd ditched the boxers and come halfway into the shower. The door was half-closed behind him, making it even darker. He loomed over her, between her and the door. Her spy instincts screamed at her that there was no escape. Sarah didn't want to escape though, did she? Her whole body was tingling again, and she cupped a handful of water from the shower, splashed it at Chuck. It wasn't as cold anymore.

Her eyes widened and locked onto his cock. She was surprised. She wasn't going to admit that to Chuck, but she was. He was bigger than she'd expected. His was six foot three, and definitely proportional. More than. The evidence had been there. Big feet he was always tripping over. Big hands that had enveloped her breasts so easily. But his unassuming demeanor had tripped her up. She'd been prepared to hide disappointment if he hadn't measured up. Sarah hadn't been prepared to hide surprise the other way.

Chuck grinned. "My face is up here, Sarah."

She grabbed his cock and pulled him by it into the warming spray of water with her. His arms folded around her easily, one hand sliding up her spine to hold her gently, the other drifting down and cupping her right buttock easily. She went up on her toes to kiss him, and his tongue swept into her mouth, hungrily exploring away. He gave her ass a squeeze and she shook her hair out of her face. He nudged forward a little and she rubbed the tip of him over her clit and shivered.

Chuck pushed her back against the wall and bent at the knees, getting his hips under hers. Sarah held her breath. He was out of control. She closed her eyes tight and bit her lip. So was she. She needed to relax, he was going to come in hard and god she was still wet enough that was exactly what she wanted. He was going to slam it all the way into her, balls deep with one thrust. But then he didn't. Sarah's eyes open questioningly, and his hands shifted, both on her ass, like he wanted to lift her up again, but why the hesitation?

Sarah swallowed before she could talk. Trying to think. Of course. That wouldn't be safe. She nodded and spun away from him, bending slightly at the waist and spreading her legs apart enough to accommodate him. Slippery tile underfoot, safer if he took her from behind.

His hand on her shoulder, she tensed involuntarily in then he was cupping her chin, tilting her head. He kissed her neck. It was difficult to hear him over the water. She poked her ass at him invitingly.

"Hard to make _love_ doggy style," Chuck said soft in her ear. Sarah's eyes widened; she half turned to get a better look at his face. "And besides, that's why we sprang for the non-slip coating." Sarah looked down at their feet, and she could make out odd shapes. She ran her foot over one of them, and it felt like sandpaper. She turned back to face him fully, tested her foot against it and blushed. They would have plenty of traction for _anything _they wanted to do in here. Chuck's erection was bobbing there between them, a bare couple of inches from where she wanted it. Sarah reached out tentatively, just with her fingertips rubbing up and down. Her breathing was speeding up again, drawing attention to her breasts. The water was hot now, her back cold against the tiles. Chuck leaned in tight against her and his cock slid up between their bodies, pressing hard and hot into her belly, his balls rubbing against her outer folds. "Now, Chuck. _Now,_" Sarah whispered fiercely. Chuck nodded and he bent again, grabbed her leg and tugged it up, knee up over her waist. Sarah gasped. "Chuck, what are you..."

He tucked his arm under her leg, holding it up and out from her hip with her knee at the crook of his elbow. She leaned back against the wall to keep her balance, spread wide open and angled to take him. "Oh, fuck..." Sarah blushed at the profanity. This was crazy. The position itself was incredibly awkward, just the toes of one foot her only contact with the ground, but it was the helplessness that had her right on the razor's edge. Her spy instincts were screaming. She was off balance, and trapped against a wall, and despite how much she wanted him to fuck her against that wall right this second, her training was bone deep.

Chuck pressed his forehead into hers. "Trust me, this is one of your favorites," he said and kissed her softly. His other hand came down into the back of the knee holding her upright. Shock flickered through her again, when she realized what he was about to do. She grabbed him around the neck with one arm, hanging on for dear life. He lifted her up and held her against the wall for a moment. "Give me a hand, baby," Chuck whispered, and Sarah grasped him, guiding the tip of his cock where it needed to go. She shivered and held it against the opening. Chuck pressed a kiss into her lips, tongue playing across her lips. She slid down the wall half an inch, and Chuck's length slipped up into her, his girth spreading her apart. He went in slow and gentle and Sarah moaned into his kiss. He pumped his hips slowly, pulling out and then thrusting back into her. Just the tip going in and sometimes popping right back out again. Sarah shivered the third time he slipped out and back into her. She tightened her fingers around him and he paused instantly.

Chuck broke the kiss. "Okay? You want to stop?" He'd mirrored his grip on her other leg, hands pressing into the tiled wall to either side of her hips, arms holding her legs wide apart and high up next to her sides. Spread her open like she'd never let anyone before.

She shook her head minutely and bit her lip. Gasped for breath. "I guess I still do my flexibility exercises," she breathed. "I love you," she said, and released her grip on him. Sarah moved her hand up and pressed it into his chest above his heart, eyes gliding closed, thankful just to know that the thudding of his heart matched the triphammer pounding of her own.

It was like nothing else she'd ever felt. She was being held up against the wall, with only Chuck's arms suspending her. She couldn't thrust back into him, he was doing all the work, and god doing it well. He started off slowly, not even thrusting himself all the way into her, building up into a rhythm slowly but surely. She smiled hazily and grazed her fingernails into his chesthair. As if that was a cue, Chuck took another shallow thrust and then let her drop down suddenly, their flesh meeting in a sudden slap. Sarah let out a surprised cry and squeezed down on his cock with her core. Chuck's arms stiffened and as if the floodgates had opened, he began pounding up into her smushing her breasts against his chest. He let go of her legs and slid his arms up to catch her by the armpits. She wrapped her arms and legs tight around him and held on for dear life as he kept up the onslaught. She couldn't take much more of that.

Sarah came suddenly, unexpectedly. She had known she was close, but the end came before she was ready. Sarah bit her lip to keep from screaming out her orgasm, but couldn't keep the low keening moans from escaping as he drove her over the edge and her core tightened spasmodically.

Chuck's thrusts stopped on a dime and he pulled out of her. The sudden lack of him stretching her apart was a loss she felt keenly. They slid together down the wall until she was sitting on Chuck's outstretched knee. He was kneeling on one knee. One of Chuck's arms held her hip, but the other snaked between them and slithered down to rub her clit. Sarah writhed and squirmed against him, panting for breath. What was he doing, didn't he know she'd just... oh god. "Oh my god, Chuck!" Sarah whimpered, voice breaking and turning his name into one long ululating cry as his fingers slid into her again. His lips found hers as his clever fingers drove her back over the edge.

Suddenly, images and sensations flickered through her mind, dozens, maybe hundreds. All the same, but all somehow wildly, wonderfully, different. All within this tiny little tile box. Sarah's eyes rolled back in her head and she shuddered around his fingers as she remembered them all.

Sarah collapsed into his arms, shuddering convulsions wracking her entire body, right down to her toes. Images flashed by her staring eyes and she convulsed around his fingers in aftershocks of ecstasy for what seemed like an eternity. "Oh, god..." Sarah groaned weakly, slumping back against the wall, her grip around his neck slackening and arms sliding off. She would have fallen right over if not for Chuck's arm around her waist and his knee giving her relatively secure seating.

"Sarah, are you okay?" Chuck said. His hand was cupping her chin. Her arms didn't seem to work. Legs either. "Sarah, talk to me."

"Ugh," Sarah managed after a long moment. "I think you broke my girl-parts. Also brain not work good..."

"That's not what that was," Chuck said. He was obviously concerned. "After... that... you went away again. You don't usually have five minute long orgasms, Sarah. Unless I'm working hard at prolonging them."

Her eyes finally found focus, but mostly so she could stare at him in shock. "That was you wasn't trying?"

"Maybe I did break something. Your grammar's always been impeccable, no matter what," Chuck eased her off his knee to a seat on the cold tile, warm water still raining down on them both. He sat across from her, outer thigh pressing against her calf, his calf against her thigh, side by side. There wasn't room for them both to sit any other way unless they were wrapped around each other.

He put a hand gently on her knee. "Sarah, what happened?"

She put a hand to her temple and shook her head slowly. "I don't even know. That first time... I thought I saw something. Did you... go down on me in a bed in Paris?"

Chuck blushed furiously. She could tell even in the dim light that came through the smoked glass shower door. She shouldn't have put it so bluntly. "A couple times," he said. "You remembered?"

"It was like I was there, for a second. And then it was gone. I could see the Eiffel tower out the window. I don't remember much else from that time."

"Okay. That's... kind of weird. Did you remember anything else?"

"Yeah," she said, still taking deep breaths trying to center her thought. "When you went for the... double... I think I remembered every time you made me come in this shower over the past two years." She swallowed. "All at once." Then a shiver, thinking back on it.

"Well. Chuck laughed. "That'll be a tough act to follow, won't it?"

She looked up concerned that he was maybe feeling inadequate, that he thought she somehow expected every time to end with a sudden recall of a hundred mind-blowing orgasms. But he was grinning.

"At least you remembered some of our other first time," he said.

"There's a story there," Sarah said. Certain of it. He'd glossed over whatever mission had taken them to Paris, like a lot of things from year three of his story. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Later," Chuck said. "You feeling up to another round? I wasn't done with you."

"You weren't... done?" Sarah straightened up to peer over his knees and her eyes widened to see him still poking up into the air through the veil of water. "How the hell didn't you finish?!"

Chuck shrugged. "Practice?"

She smirked. "We'll see about that. Stand up."

Chuck used the wall to slide back to his feet, and held his arms out to help her up. Sarah waved the hand away and scrambled up to her knees. She nipped playfully at his hip and stroked him roughly with both hands before she swirled her tongue around the tip. Chuck groaned in pleasure. And Sarah opened her mouth, dipped her head to take him deeper and then her eyes went wide. Her face suddenly went absolutely crimson and she pulled away.

"Sarah, what's wrong?"

"Uh... n-nothing..." she said, but she was clearly shaken. "Just... um..." she glanced up at him and then back to his cock. "I remembered something else. And I have no idea _how _I used to manage it."

Chuck blushed in return, obviously taking her meaning. "Well... I..." he stammered and couldn't form a coherent sentence.

"Looks like I'll need a whole _lot_ of practice to get some of my old skills back after all. That okay with you?"

"I think I can suffer through."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: not quite as much smut this chapter, but getting the plot moving and some harsh truths that need to be spoken. AKA, the one where they deal with the S3 baggage. So... the mission statement of this fic is to be both smutty and plotty. There will eventually be gunfights and spy-plots and stuff too. But at least one dirty Chuck/Sarah scene per chapter is my goal.

* * *

II: Sarah vs the Inconvenient Truth

It was later that same night, when Sarah shook him awake. They'd exhausted themselves early and it was still barely 11 o'clock. "Chuck. I have to ask you something. It's been bothering me since you blew my mind in the shower earlier."

"What is it?"

"We've been together for almost two years, and married for more than one..." she said. "For real. Right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Then why do you still call me Sarah? Even when we were having sex and you called out my name, you called me Sarah. But that's a cover. Did I not ever tell you my real name?"

Chuck tensed in her arms. "I know your birth name, yes. Technically, Sarah is your real name, now. You changed it on our Marriage certificate."

"Why would I do that?" Sarah demanded.

"That's... it's a long story. And I didn't tell you about it when I told you our story because, well, neither of us comes off looking very good. I found out your real name when we were broken up and both seeing other people. You told this other guy, and I kind of overheard."

"You were spying on me?"

"As part of a mission. The other guy was the target of an assassination, and I'd gone undercover as the assassin. Not the ideal way for me to hear it."

"I'm sorry I told him and not you. If I never said it."

"You did. We talked about it on our train ride after Paris."

Sarah furrowed her brow. "We only talked about it after we got together?"

"That was kind of a crazy time," Chuck said. "For a while there, it looked like you were going to get reassigned with the other guy, and then I tried to win you back. And I'm pretty sure I had even before Paris. We have this tendency to say we're going on 'one last mission' where everything then goes pineapple shaped."

"You mentioned that a couple times in the story."

"Right. Right. Anyway, your 'final mission' this time, you missed our rendezvous to go off the grid together to help out the other guy. He said it was super important or something. I don't remember exactly what. You told me later, you were on your way to meet me and he wouldn't shut up about it. But I was convinced it was just an excuse to have you killed because he realized you were the one who killed his wife."

Sarah's eyes went round and incredulous. "What? That's insane! Why would I go on a mission with him if..."

"She was your Red Test. Beckman recovered the footage... from where I'd saved this other guy when he'd been kidnapped by the Ring earlier. She didn't have time to show either of us the footage before you and he went on your mission. You didn't know that it was his wife. He showed you that footage too, and... we figured out later that just as I busted in with the rescue team he was probably psyching himself up to shoot you."

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose trying to sort through all this. "So... holy christ that's a clusterfuck."

"Yeah, it gets worse," Chuck said. "You want to hear all of it?"

"Yes. I can't think how it could get weirder, but go ahead. Like pulling off a bandaid, right?"

"Okay, he convinced us that he was okay with it. That he was still loyal. So we all went on a mission together. I was more worried about how we were going to break it to him that you and I were together. Though you and he I think were technically still dating at that point. I'm not sure if you had officially broken up with him. I'm not actually sure if you _eve_r officially broke up with him. It makes sense that finding out you killed his wife was kind of an insta-breakup. You said you'd text him from our getaway train, before that whole situation blew up. But I don't know if you ever did."

Sarah sat up in bed, holding her head in both hands. "God, you should have just lied to me."

"No, I shouldn't have. Eventually you would have remembered all this," Chuck said. "Probably. And I don't want to sugarcoat any of this. We've definitely had our share of problems. Even after we got together, everything wasn't all sunshine and puppies and sex in the shower."

"How did we ever even _get_ together with all this baggage, Chuck?"

"I once told you I'd be your personal baggage handler," Chuck said. It made her smile faintly, in spite of the seriousness. "Story's not over. Anyway, he had really turned double agent on us, and the whole mission was a fake to get us off the Ring's trail. Then, he had 'one last mission' to Paris he needed your help on. We still didn't know he'd turned then."

"Paris. Where I'd killed his wife?"

"Yeah, that was the idea. He drugged you so you'd be helpless and then he was going to throw you in the river to drown from the bridge where he'd proposed to his wife. But Casey and I got there in time, and I shot him. He fell into the river instead."

"You killed him? Is that why you don't say his name?"

"No. Well, I did kill him. But he got better. Another long story. I don't like saying his name, because later he had my father shot and killed."

"Jesus, Chuck! Did I kill him for good? Did Casey? Somebody better have. He definitely needs killing!"

"He's in prison. He broke out and tried to kill us another time after that, but he's back in jail now."

"What!"

"It's okay though, his brain is kind of gone all swiss cheese from the glitched out Intersect he downloaded. He's not coming after us again."

"I'd rather be sure," Sarah said. ".50 cal to the head sure."

Chuck stroked her hair soothingly. "It's okay. We're fine. We're together."

"I guess changing my name to Sarah makes sense after all," she sighed. Then frowned. "You said we both come off pretty bad in that story. You came out smelling like a particularly saintly rose."

"Well, no," Chuck said. "The _entire_ situation was my fault. Our breakup was totally my fault in the first place."

Sarah groaned. Her chest hurt listening to this story. "Another tale of heartbreak and woe?"

"Yeah, pretty much. It can wait for some other time if you want?"

"Remember my band-aid analogy?" Sarah said. "Spill."

Chuck sighed heavily. "Okay. Let me think. I know on the beach I told you we broke up and then got back together-to-stay in Paris. The long version... I'd just gotten the new Intersect. This was the first one with skill information in it. And Beckman wanted me to be a real field agent. You were afraid that it'd change me. That I'd stop being the man you fell in love with. Though you didn't say it like that. We were both kind of sucky when it came to talking about our feelings. We were in a sort of un-quantified relationship state at the time. We'd been dancing around each other for so long because of the whole asset/handler thing. You wanted us to run away together instead of me becoming a field agent. I agreed, because who wouldn't agree to run off with Sarah Walker when she asks, am I right?"

She blushed faintly and motioned for him to go on. "Flattery will get you everywhere, but finish the story first."

Chuck swallowed nervously despite himself. "Right. But then I got to the training facility and... I had always been a little jealous of you and Casey."

"Me and Casey-" Sarah interrupted, disgust marring her expression. "Were he and I? Eugh I can't even finish the thought."

"What? No!" Chuck coughed. "Not that... you were always in the thick of it. Both of you, always fighting bad guys, getting in shootouts together. While I was always supposed to stay in the car. It was... frankly it was a little emasculating. It shouldn't have been. You had training; I decidedly did not. Maybe I'm a bit of a closet male chauvinist pig after all. Maybe it was Casey constantly needling me about it and calling me Moron. But I got the Intersect 2.0 and all of a sudden, I knew Kung Fu. I could fight the bad guys _myself_ now. I could be your equal, your partner in every way. And it was addictive, even just the training sessions. When we met at the train station-"

"Always with the trains!"

"Actually this is why, I was always trying to make up for the first train station. We met at the Prague train station; you were ready to throw it all away to be with me, and I see that in hindsight, this was a huge moment for you. Crossing the Rubicon as it were. But sometimes I get caught up in my own stuff, and I didn't understand just what you were trying to say with your actions. We'd never actually said: we are now going out, we are a real couple, we are running away together, at _least_ posing as a married couple, and maybe going to actually get married at some point in the near future.

Which is what I think you wanted me to realize. A lot of the time you could get stuff like that across to me without having to come out and say it. But that time, whoosh," Chuck waved his hand over his head as he said it. "So, I didn't express myself very well at Prague. I didn't know how much of yourself you had riding on it. And I didn't go with you. I crushed you. I didn't realize it at the time that that's what I was doing, but that's no excuse."

"God..." Sarah said. "If I'd decided to throw it all away for you... You're right, that would have crushed me. I was ready to go rogue for you?"

"Yeah. You'd already taken me off the grid once, and we'd just barely got away with it. So, I really should have known better. Anyway, I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life. And as the weeks went by and you stopped answering my calls and emails and you just dropped out of my life, I lost control of the Intersect. Could barely flash to save my life. So Beckman fired me, drummed me right out of training. I came home to Burbank and started to eat myself into cheese ball oblivion."

Sarah laughed, a short bark. And then arched an eyebrow. "You're not kidding about the cheese balls are you?"

"No. Anyway. We finally got the team back together when I crashed one of your missions, and we got kidnapped to Mexico," Chuck said. "It was a whole thing. And you were still so toweringly pissed at me, that we decided to try to just be friends again. I realized around then just how badly I'd hurt you, and I thought you would never forgive me. So I tried to go out with somebody new, turn the page and stop the pain. We had this super awkward conversation where we basically gave each other permission to move on.

Second biggest mistake of my life. Despite what we both said, it was definitely too soon. I hurt you again, and made a huge jackass out of myself in the process. And then I compounded it by not realizing my mistake until the night I was supposed to go meet her parents. And so I hurt her too. I was toxic, the spy life is too dangerous for civilians to be around, and I didn't want to drag her down with me. I broke up with her before it could get any worse. So, after that, the Intersect started acting up again, and I realized it was because I was still in love with you and was in denial. As soon as I realized that, boom. Intersect started working again. And I knew I had to get you back into my life somehow."

"But by then, seeing you with this other girl, I'd tried to move on too."

"Yep. Which leads to the fool I made of myself trying to win you back. That it eventually worked is just evidence that fortune favors the truly idiotic and desperate." Which goes to explaining Jeffster's newfound commercial success.

Sarah shook her head and nestled into his chest again. She was silent for a long time. "But that's not why I don't call you Sam," Chuck said. She tensed momentarily and then relaxed. "Not really. It was a long time before I really understood what you needed from me. I kept pushing you, trying to get through the walls and know real things about you. But I realized when I finally did learn something about you, when we went to your high-school reunion," Sarah lifted her head from his chest to stare at him.

"My _actual _high school reunion?" she said. Then her eyes widened. "Wait. Which high school?"

"San Diego," he said. "Jenny's high school."

Sarah hid her face in her hands. "Lord. With the braces and-"

"I thought you were cute."

Sarah peeked out and wrinkled her nose. "No accounting for taste."

"Hey, that's my line," Chuck said. "But to get serious for a minute. I think it was then that I really realized something important. I didn't need to know every detail of your past to know you. That was kind of a shock to me, because I pretty much blurted out my entire romantic history to you on our first date. We're two wildly different people, and even without the CIA involved, on paper at least, we really shouldn't have worked."

"Okay, so I'm not crazy? We are kind of mismatched?"

"Only on paper," Chuck said. "It's something we've talked about a bit. We've both tried to date our kind of mirror images. You with Bryce, and then the other guy. And me with Jill and then later the other girl. It didn't work. But you and me, we work. And I'm not just talking about the sex. Even though it's like we didn't miss a beat in that department."

Sarah groaned her agreement to that sentiment into his chest. They lay together for a long time, in comfortable silence. Which was kind of nerve-wracking for Sarah. She found his hand and interlaced her fingers with his and squeezed gently. "I can't stay here. In the apartment."

"What? Sarah. I don't-" He was panicking.

She leaned up on one elbow and put a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly. "I'm not saying I want to leave you. I just can't stay in LA. It's not healthy for either of us. Why did we stay here at all?"

Chuck frowned. "Burbank is my home. I've lived almost my whole life in the LA area. It's where Castle is. It's where my family lives. And- oh."

"Back when this started and you first got the Intersect, your sister was here and she practically raised you. Sure, I get that. But she's moving to Chicago. We're officially out of the CIA. You were already packing up Carmichael industries and selling the Buymore back. Really, what's keeping us here? With all the bad memories and the ghosts of the me I was? Sure, we're back in the groove where the beast with two backs is concerned. Better than I believed possible, really. But as screwed up emotionally as I've always been, even I know that's not everything."

Chuck opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. Morgan and Alex would get over it. Casey was already gone off after Gertrude. His mom was off on missions of her _own _half the time. And Sarah was right. If they stayed here in this apartment, it was like trying to pour her into the mold of what and who she had been. Sarah didn't deserve that. He'd loved her before, and he'd go on loving her no matter what happened. He'd said that often enough, now to follow through on it.

"Chuck, are you alright? I'm sorry if I upset you."

"No. You're right. If nothing else, we've got to get out of this apartment. I should have seen that myself. This place has got to be like a pressure cooker torture chamber minefield for you."

"I wouldn't say torture, but it is kind of freaking me out sleeping in the same bed I thought at one point I was going to kill you in."

"Exactly! That's horrible! You deserve better from me. Especially after all we've been through."

"Even the stuff that I don't remember?"

"Especially that stuff. You've saved the free world on at least two occasions since I've known you, plus I'm sure at least once before we met. You deserve to remember or not remember at your own pace, in your own time, without me hovering and showing you stuff and hoping, hey maybe this'll jog something," his voice caught in his throat for a moment before he went on. "Without me there at all if that's what you need."

"Um, don't take this the wrong way? But the sex jogged _plenty_ of stuff loose, even if it was just sex stuff. So I think for the sake of efficiency if nothing else, I'm gonna want you around." Sarah said, grinning at him.

He tried to ignore the promise in her eyes. "Still. If there's one thing you should be able to expect from me, it's my total unequivocal support. We've got money. We can go anywhere you want. Paris? Milan? Monte Carlo? Brazil? We can be on a plane tomorrow."

"I'd prefer someplace I haven't gone on a mission," Sarah said. "Or that _we_ haven't gone on a mission I don't remember."

"That leaves out a lot of exotic places around the world."

"Who says it's gotta be exotic? I could suffer through a skeevy motel or two," Sarah said. Then took in his expression. "Really? Skeevy motels are out?"

"Well, just the ones in Barstow," Chuck suddenly burst into motion, flipping the sheets off him and whirling to tuck them back in around her. He went to his desk in his reclaimed pj bottoms and grinned at her. "I've got an idea," Chuck said, firing up his laptop. He flicked through a handful of websites. "There, perfect."

"Care to fill me in?"

He moved back to the bed, holding the laptop.

_Luxury RV sales._

"How do you feel about a road trip?" Chuck said. "This one's even got a little tuck-in garage underneath, so you can bring your Lotus."

Sarah looked at the price tag. "Um. Maybe we'd be better off renting. I don't think I'd mind paying off my half of the rental fees to you in sexual favors, but half of 1.9 _million_ dollars? I'd need a really good set of knee-pads."

"Sarah," Chuck said in his sing-song scolding voice. "Half of my money is your money, remember. We've got plenty. We talked about this. Our pre-nup is a sheet of paper that basically says 'we promise not to need this.' And seriously, don't sell yourself short. Even a million bucks a pop is low balling it substantially." She grinned and he held up a finger, rolled his eyes. "No pun intended."

"Mmm... but I don't think you'd mind me low balling you, would you? Pun very much intended."

Chuck swallowed nervously. "What does that even mean?"

Sarah shrugged and tugged him back into bed. "I'll figure something out."

She had just managed to get his PJ bottoms slid down out of the way enough start, when the phone rang. Sarah glared at him when he moved to scoop it up and sucked hard on his ballsack. Chuck shuddered and twitched, going from half-mast to fully erect. He nearly dropped the phone. Sarah's eyes narrowed. Only nearly? She redoubled her efforts and Chuck groaned feverishly.

"Sarah, cut it out, I have to take this," Chuck said, panting for breath.

She grinned and nodded around him, pulling away slowly and tugging gently on his flesh with her teeth. Chuck gave her a whole body shudder for her efforts and she grinned up at him. "Aw... alright," she went back in and kissed the spot she'd teased with her teeth a moment before. "If you're sure."

Chuck groaned a sigh of relief and hit the slider of his phone. Her grin widened and she immediately took his shaft in her mouth, sucking hard and bobbing her head insistently. She couldn't take the whole thing, he was too big for that, and she didn't have as much experience as her future self had, apparently, but it was still enough to drive him wild.

Chuck's voice came out as a squeak. "Hi!" He cleared his throat, "Hello." He put the phone to his chest and glared at her. Sarah met his eyes and hollowed her cheeks with the suction, took him as deep as she dared without gagging herself. "Please, _please_ stop. It's my _sister _on the phone.

Sarah blushed furiously, going absolutely crimson all the way down to her shoulders, and pulled away. She hastily tucked him back into his PJ pants and got completely out of bed, taking the sheet with her and going over to sit at his computer desk a safe distance away. Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey Ellie, sorry about that. Yeah, Ellie, Sarah is staying here at the apartment. She's right here. I can put her on speaker if you want."

Sarah waved no, still blushing. "Hang on," Chuck covered the mic pickup with his thumb so no sound could get through to his sister. "Do you not want to talk to Ellie?"

"Ten seconds ago, I was trying to deep-throat her brother," Sarah said. "I'd be mortified."

"Uh, the only way she'll figure _that_ out is if you tell her," Chuck said.

Sarah sighed and nodded and her blush came back and she hid her face in her hand. "Okay," she said, waving with her free hand in a 'move it along' kind of way.

"You're on speaker," Chuck said.

Ellie's voice came through the little speaker, sounding far away. "Sarah, I know this has got to be tough on you. How is everything?"

"It's... good, I guess. Still weird. I haven't remembered... much," she blushed anew and then glared at Chuck. That was his fault apparently. "But Chuck has told me a lot. And-"

"Oh. Chuck, I don't know that that's really that great of an idea. Neurologically speaking."

"What?" Chuck looked suddenly horrified. "Why not?"

"It's fine, Ellie. Really," Sarah said. "I like listening to him tell stories about us."

"Well, it's up to you guys what you do," Ellie said. "But, I've been reading up on amnesia cases, for obvious reasons. Now your case is unique, because of the way the memories were lost, or I guess misplaced might be a better term. Look, it's okay if you talk about the old days, a little. But, going into too much detail trying to bring back memories could taint them."

"What do you mean?" Sarah said. Chuck was freaking out, mouth flopping open and closed soundlessly.

"It's. Okay, I'll have to preface this by talking about repressed memories," Ellie said. "For years, people were working on this theory that intense trauma sometimes caused repressed memories. But, they figured out eventually that that's the opposite of what really happens. More often you just get PTSD, which is where, for the most part, you have flashbacks and relive those traumatic memories. You can't _stop_ remembering."

"So what? Were these people recovering memories or not?"

"In a lot of cases, no. They were having memories _im_planted. Young people would 'remember' being abused by their parents or their neighbor or the local baseball mascot, but the psychologist who was trying to recover memories was actually unconsciously leading the witness, to use a legal term for it. And when it was over, they remembered those false memories as well or better than their real memories. Because they were traumatic. And so 'remembering' them risked giving them some symptoms of PTSD, not to mention putting people in prison for things they didn't do."

"Jesus," Chuck said. "I definitely don't want to do that to you, Sarah."

"Chuck hasn't been leading me, though," Sarah said. "And the things I have remembered haven't happened due to anything he's _said. _They're almost like flashes. Sudden jolts of memory."

"Hmm... Okay," Ellie said. "Just, I want you both to be aware of it. Amnesia is different from so-called 'repressed' memories anyway. But we don't know all there is to know about the brain. As difficult as it is going to be for you two, moving forward. I'd suggest you try not to talk about the past. Or at least Chuck, don't initiate the conversation. If Sarah remembers something, you can talk about it together. Be careful. I know Chuck wouldn't intentionally mess with how you remember things, Sarah. But you have no idea how lucky you are to have him. Some guys would take advantage of the situation to get you back into bed quicker."

Sarah put a hand over her mouth and Chuck winced, shook his head. She grinned reassuringly. Of course he wouldn't do that. Anyway, she'd been the instigator of just about all their resumed sexual activities. "Thanks for the advice, Ellie," Sarah said. "I really appreciate it. And, I'm kind of flabbergasted you're being so cool about it. I practically tried to kill you."

"And don't think I'm not still mad about that," Ellie said. "I know you were working on some faulty assumptions, and I forgive you. But I probably won't ever completely forget it, either. Still, you're my sister-in-law. Scratch that, you're just my sister, and I love you. I'm glad you and Chuck are going to try and make it work. But that's not why I called. The free medical advice wasn't why I called either. We're coming back to town in a few days to bring the second shipment of our stuff, I wanted to set up a dinner or something, make sure you guys didn't have to break plans to see us."

"Actually," Sarah said. "I don't think we're going to be here."

"Why not?"

"We were already coming to some of the same conclusions as you were, about my memories," Sarah said. "Being in this apartment is kind of hard for me. I was tasked with potentially killing Chuck. And I only have a few memories of this place that are from before. Reconciling those two sets, if I'm right here in the middle of where they happened is going to be even harder."

"So I suggested a road trip," Chuck said. "No destination in mind, just driving places neither of us has ever been before. We're thinking of buying an old used Winnebago."

"That could be really good for you, Sarah," Ellie said. "I'm sorry we'll miss you when we come to Burbank, though."

"Well, maybe we'll stop in on you guys in Chicago at some point," Sarah said. "I've been there a couple of times, but that was as a kid. We never had a mission in Chicago, did we?"

"No," Chuck said. "That we did not. We don't have an itinerary, but we'll definitely call ahead before we just drop in on you, okay?"

"Sounds great. Good luck, little bro, and sis."

Chuck hung up the phone, and a second later, Sarah leaped back into bed, yanking his pj pants down roughly. "Mmm, where was I? Oh, I remember."

"Oh dear lord," Chuck groaned. "You really don't need to... oh god..." Chuck's protests trailed off.

Sarah pulled off in a sudden bubble of laughter and rubbed against him, her tongue exploring the side of his shaft daintily. The sudden contrast, and the mind-boggling concept that what Sarah was currently doing to him could possibly be construed as _dainty_, pulled a low groan out of him. That made her grin again, and she trailed a line of line playful kisses up and down the length of his shaft, licking the tip and then tugging gently on his ballsack with her teeth. Chuck stared at her all the while in utter disbelief.

Finally Sarah wrapped her lips around the tip and took him in her mouth again. She bobbed her head and looked up to meet his eyes, and her eyebrows came together for a moment. She pulled away. "Something wrong?"

"Just... ugh... just always feel a little guilty when you do that."

She grinned and stroked him gently with one hand. "Why? Do you think I feel guilty when you do the same kind of stuff to me? Because I definitely don't." She took him roughly in her mouth, sucking hard and deep. Chuck groaned louder than before. Then she stopped. "If you had had to talk me into it, then maybe you'd have a point." She took him in her mouth and flashed her tongue along the underside for a moment. "But it was my idea. So don't," this time she swirled her head in a quick circle around him, hair flailing wildly and causing him to twitch uncontrollably. "Feel," three quick plunges as far down him as she could go without choking. "Guilty. Got it?" She licked her lips and paused with her mouth open, her breath ghosting against his flesh.

Chuck moaned and nodded. And Sarah smirked and gave the tip a slow sensual kiss before she crawled up to straddle him, gripping him firmly in hand and easing herself backward. She did a one-handed push-up as she did, pressing one hand into his chest to hold herself up. "I'm glad we had that talk," Sarah said as she lined him up and lowered herself down onto him.

Chuck groaned. "God, me too, Sam."

Sarah's eyes widened and she tensed around him. "I thought you..."

"For you, I'll try anything once."

She smirked down at him. "Good to know."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: From now on, this story is mostly going to be Chuck & Sarah on a road trip, getting smutty with each other. Plus maybe some action of the guns and bullets variety later on.

III: Sarah vs The Winnebago

Sarah was really going through her wardrobe for the first time. Chuck finally mentioned she had taken over the guest bedroom closet as well for her 'old mission clothes', and her curiosity got the better of her almost instantly.

She found more than she bargained for. What looked to be a metal bikini trailing a loincloth. A waiter or busboy uniform. She had a second copy of the Wienerlicious bavarian farmgirl outfit. A mechanic's jumpsuit. A skimpy orange tank-top and white pants. A security guard unifrom, complete with a full utility belt, including handcuffs. Though they were fuzzy pink handcuffs, not the standard variety. Sarah blushed furiously and moved on. Various ball-gowns, blue, red, purple, in a variety of styles. The list seemed endless. And very little, aside from the ball-gowns seemed like something she might actually enjoy wearing. Though she did pocket the handcuffs with a brief glance over her shoulder to be certain the coast was clear. Her outfits seemed to be organized into three sections: formal wear, bizarre sexy costumes, and actual uniforms from cover jobs.

A couple seemed to blur that line, of course. She took a white button-down shirt out of the closet and frowned. There was a grey tie and a short, very short in fact, black skirt on the same hangar. Sarah smirked to herself and made sure that went into her suitcase. She kept flipping idly through the sexy costumes idly for a moment, and her eyes widened. She checked again to make sure Chuck was still in his/their room doing his own packing, and folded it into her suitcase as well, a mischevious glint in her eye.

Closing up the apartment was simpler than Sarah expected. Aparrently 42 million dollars and rent paid via direct deposit solved any number of problems she had been envisioning. If they ever did come back to this place, it would be waiting. If they didn't, and decided to settle someplace else, they could hire someone to move their stuff out of it. All it took was a phone call and twenty minutes later a gang of men with a huge bundle of dustcloths descended on the apartment. Ten minutes after that, it looked like some old grandma's attic.

Being rich was going to take some getting used to, and Sarah still felt weird about the concept of 'their' money.

So, Sarah had talked Chuck out of the extravagant 2 million dollar rolling mansion. The idea of such an extended-completely open-ended in fact- road trip was partially to see how they handled the stress of being cooped up alone together in less than luxurious accommodations. As far as Sarah was concerned at least. Chuck seemed to think they wouldn't have any problems on that front. Chuck talked Sarah out of selling her car to put in half the money toward their new ride, instead they put it in a storage unit and she paid the first year in advance with most of the last of her emergency cash at Sarah's insistence. Chuck had wanted her to use their joint account, but it was still weird that her old 911 had morphed into an electric car and basically quadrupled in value, so she insisted and got her way. She still had about four hundred dollars to her name, without dipping into any of Chuck's money. He was at least halfway to convincing her it was hers as well, but he said he respected the stubborn, and so they were working on removing the equivalent of her pre-wedding CIA retirement funds from the joint accounts Sarah felt so uncomfortable using. That wouldn't be finalized for another full business day, though.

Morgan was giving them a ride to the dealership, since Chuck was no longer entitled to drive his Nerd Herder around after the final sale of the Buymore to Subway went through.

"So, the kiss didn't work. You didn't remember anything new, but you and Chuck are going off on an open ended road trip together?" Morgan said from the front seat, craning his neck. Morgan had tried to get Chuck to ride shotgun, but he'd ducked into the somewhat cramped back seat with her and let morgan chauffeur them.

"Yes, Morgan," Sarah said. "That's exactly right. Eyes on the road please."

"And you won't tell me where you're going?"

"We don't even know ourselves," Chuck said. "The plan is to toss down the road atlas and play pin the destination on the US. Until we get bored. Or run out of money. I'm thinking we'll get bored first, since the Buy More sale went through."

"Man, that sounds awesome!" Morgan said. "You sure Alex and I can't come along?"

"There's only one bedroom," Sarah said. Morgan swerved for a moment before he got the car back under control.

"Say that again?"

Her lips tightened into a flat line. "One bedroom and a sleeper sofa," she corrected. "And this is about me getting to know Chuck again. No offense Morgan, but I think we need the alone time." Sarah wasn't comfortable with the assumption Morgan had immediately leapt to after she mentioned sleeping arrangements, even obliquely. It wasn't that they were keeping their resumed love-life entirely under wraps, exactly. It wasn't some dark secret that needed to be hidden, which was a refreshing change of pace for Sarah. But her private sex life was above all _private_. Morgan, who she'd now known for just as long as Chuck, technically, just without any holdover emotions from the last five years, had _no_ need to know.

Sarah wasn't quite ready to start calling herself Chuck's wife again, for one thing. And when she was, she'd probably want them to renew their vows. Chuck called himself her husband of course, (and continued to wear his ring without putting any overt pressure on her to resume wearing hers, which he had in a little velvet box in his luggage) but she was infinitely more comfortable thinking of herself as his girlfriend. His relatively _new_ girlfriend, for that matter. It was, of course an odd situation, but she didn't care. She had a considerate loving partner who worshipped the ground she walked on. And he'd agreed to go at whatever pace she needed. She wasn't willing to accept his position that jumping back into the sexual component so quick had been a mistake, of course. And Chuck wasn't about to suggest it to her face after the first time he'd said it, and she'd blown up at him.

But the aftermath of that fight just before Morgan was due to pick them up at the apartment had been... informative, had given her a swell of confidence that the RV trip was going to work out. She'd been yelling one minute and then bent over the kitchen table getting her brains fucked out the next. And Chuck _had _admitted that there was nothing new about that turn of events when they argued. It had been, as Chuck said and her own hazily-returning argument-ending sex memories confirmed, how about 90% of their arguments ended. Varying only in what hastily cleared surface they used and who was on top. Usually that was whoever had been losing the fight. Granted, this fight had been _about_ sex, so maybe it ending with more sex had been inevitable from the start. And the need to be quick about it had left Sarah wanting more.

At any rate, she was definitely glad they'd gotten back into the sexytimes-as Chuck called them-so soon. She hadn't asked how the other 10% of their arguments ended. She had a vague memory of peeking at him sprawled out on the couch and being cold in bed for the first time in months, and really didn't want to think about it further. Sarah hadn't had a relationship that survived a real knock down drag out fight before. Or had one where the fights almost invariably ended in sex. That thought all by itself was enough to put a tiny self-satisfied mile on her face as she considered how to engineer their next argument and makeup.

"Sarah?" Morgan prompted.

"Sorry," she said. "What were you saying?"

"Just asking that you'd call in a week or so, and me and Alex could fly to wherever you are for a couple of days to hang out and maybe do touristy stuff. Chuck said to ask you before he'd give me a firm answer."

"That sounds fine Morgan," Sarah said. "Sorry, I was thinking of something else."

"No problemo, Sarah," Morgan said. "Looks like this is it." He turned the car into a parking lot brimming over with wood-paneled recreational vehicles. A huge sign loomed over them proclaiming 'RV World. Superstore.'

Chuck leaned in. "Thinking of what, I wonder?" he whispered in her ear. "I think I've seen that dreamy look before."

Sarah blushed and fixed him with a glare. She bonked her forehead gently into his. "Guilty," she said. Morgan parked the General Leeand let them out. Sarah shook her head once more. When she'd asked how Morgan came to own the car from the Dukes of Hazzard, Chuck had merely shrugged. He was trying not to bias her memories, she knew. They'd had a long talk about that after they talked to Ellie the night before.

Him telling her everything helped her feel like she knew him better, which made her feel more secure in her decision to come back and work things out. But when she remembered something he'd already told her about, a part of her had to wonder, even if just a little bit, how much was a real memory and how much was constructed out of his vivid often-hilarious stories and her imagination. A second phone call to Ellie in Chicago this morning had led to the telephone equivalent of a helpless shrug on that point. Even an expert neurologist didn't have all the answers when it came to the brain.

"Good luck, you guys," Morgan said.

He gave Chuck a hug, and Sarah a handshake. Then he kissed the back of her hand, almost ruining the moment by weirding her out, but he salvaged it at the last moment. "Take good care of my broseph, Milady." It was still a weird send-off, and it took her a moment to figure out what the hell Broseph meant. Chuck and Morgan got their luggage out of the trunk and Morgan hugged Chuck again, and got in feet first through the window like Beau Duke.

Before he drove off, he blared the horn at them and waved, the General tweeting out the opening bars to Dixie, and then he was gone in a roar of V8 power. Sarah squinted after him, and then turned to Chuck, pinching the bridge of her nose. "_What_ happened with my dad and the deLorean?"

"What do you remember?"

"So there _was_ a deLorean," Sarah said. "Okay, I get it. No causing memory bias. It'll come back to me." He linked his fingers through hers and they went into the office to finalize the sale.

The Winnebago was huge. More than anything it looked like a rock band's touring bus, and Sarah shook her head again at the extravagance. But it wasn't brand new; in fact it was almost ten years old and had nearly eighty thousand miles on the odometer, so their total closing cost was in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars. Throwing around that kind of money made her go broody for a while, but Chuck seemed to understand that, and made the extra effort to bring her out of the funk. As soon as they had signed the last paperwork, he tossed her the keys and gave her a hip-bump.

Sarah unlocked the side door of their purchase and hefted her suitcase up the short stairway, peering around the interior. Up front the pair of leather captains chairs were half-swiveled inward to face each other. She frowned. It looked like a section of the Winnebago would extend outward to make the area behind the up front seats widen into an honest to goodness living room. Chuck cleared his throat, interrupting her first look around, and she turned to look down at him. "What's up?" She said.

"Never mind, I was going to carry you over the threshold."

"What is with you and carrying me everywhere?" Sarah leaned against the door frame.

Chuck shrugged sheepishly. "Two years of spy workouts and after-hours cardio. I do it because I _can_ now. You were a lot intimidating in the early going. Now you're just a little intimidating. Okay, no talking about before." He squeezed past her, lugged his own suitcase up the stairs and shoved it under the small dining room table. Sarah walked past the table, a leather sofa with a flat-screen mounted on the wall across from it and a puffy armchair mounted into the floor. The carpet was nice and plush. She kicked off her flats and peeked into the bedroom and then turned and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"We need sheets," she said. "And we need a destination," she said.

Chuck headed up to the front seats, and rooted in the glovebox, where the dealership had placed a free road atlas. Chuck grabbed it and tossed on the built in table with the US map on the back face up. "Can I borrow one of your throwing knives?"

Sarah arched an eyebrow. "How sure are you I'm wearing them?"

"I can see the bulge under your sundress," Chuck said. "Unless that's just you being happy to see me?"

Sarah grinned and pulled the edge of her skirt up to bare an inviting expanse of thigh, and then her knife holster. She flicked one out and flipped it handle first to him as she smoothed her light blue skirt back down. Chuck took the knife and started fishing in his pocket. Then Sarah's grin came back broader than ever and she flashed her frilly pink panties at him briefly. Chuck fumbled the knife and bent to retrieve it.

"What was that for?" Chuck said.

Sarah shrugged a sheepish smile. "I could practically hear you wondering what kind I had on. So, now you know. Get us a destination, huh?"

Chuck nodded, threaded a bit of string through the hole in the tang of her throwing knife and dangled it over the map. He closed his eyes and swung the knife in a figure eight blind, and gently lowered the point until he could feel the tension leave the string. Chuck opened his eyes and leaned down, peering at the knifepoint. Wyoming. Middle of nowhere. Not enough detail on this map to see if there's a town."

"Then flip to Wyoming and go again."

Chuck nodded and set to. Ten seconds later they had a destination. "Lander, Wyoming," Chuck pronounced, digging out his phone. "Ever been there?" Sarah shook her head. "Okay, population... 7437."

"Well, in a day or so it'll be 7439."

Chuck nodded. "How long you think we should stay there?"

"Play it by ear," she said. "You want the first shift driving?"

"You take it," Chuck perused the map as he headed forward and plopped down in the right side captain's chair. "Okay, I think our best route is the ten out east to 15 north through vegas up to Salt Lake City. Then I-80 across into Wyoming. Then Highway 191, then looks like..." he squinted at the tiny roads. "28 will take us to Lander."

"You're not going to use your GPS on it?"

"We're not in a rush, are we?" Chuck said. "Besides, we've still got shopping to do, don't we?"

"Good point. That'll give me a chance to figure out how to sex up all the roadtrip games."

"Oh, got any ideas on that?" Chuck said. He was blushing faintly.

"Well, I'm sure I'll refine it later. But I think a basic rule-change to 'loser goes down on winner' makes the most sense across the board."

Chuck swallowed. "Um. That'll certainly extend our travel time significantly."

"Like you said. It's not like we've got any place to be. Actually, she said. Could we stop in Vegas? I've got some stuff stashed there in case of emergency."

"Is this an emergency?" Chuck said.

Sarah shrugged. "It was a spy contingency pack. I'm retired though, so I could really use that twenty-five grand. I know, I know. What's yours is ours. But I want something that's mine."

"I get that. The paperwork at the bank should go through while we're in Vegas, and you'll have your old retirement fund back."

"Okay. I guess we can leave the stash where it is."

"It's okay. I said I get it, you know," Chuck said. "It's not about the money at all really. It's about perception. About how you see yourself. First stop in vegas we get you your stash money. And you know, I've got current numbers for the rest of your old squad, if you want to talk to Zondra and Carina. If just talking to me gets too weird, they were also your bridesmaids."

"I know. You mentioned that."

Chuck shrugged. "Sorry. Okay, I've got your mom's number too. We should go see her and your lil sis before we leave town."

Sarah shook her head. "I don't want them to have to deal with this... whole situation."

"I think they'd be supportive," Chuck said.

"I know. Just... the whiplash involved, you know? I remember a couple weeks ago, she was a newborn." She shrugged.

Chuck nodded. "Whatever you want. I'm not pressuring you either way."

Sarah glanced out the window, then went over and sat in his lap. "I really appreciate how understanding you've been through all this. And I just saw a volkswagon."

"Yeah? Did we already start playing slug-bug and you didn't mention it? We haven't even driven off the lot yet."

"Not slug-bug. Cunnilingus-bug."

"You realize of course that at this rate we're never going to get out of California?"

They did of course... eventually... get across the border, but it was after dark before they finally drifted into Vegas, despite getting an early start. Both Chuck and Sarah were worried about sore jaws, so they went to a points system after the first couple hours only saw them make it across the greater LA area to the 15. But the number of VWs on the road plummeted sharply once they were out of the LA metro area, and they started making better time.

Until Sarah looked up new roadtrip games on her iPhone. The suggestively named banana game was really just slug-bug shifted from VWs to any vehicle painted yellow. But that was fine, yellow not being exactly the red or black of vehicle paint. Until they wound up trapped behind a convoy of school busses headed who knows where.

All in all, their first day on the road was... eventful, to say the least.

It was dark, but still relatively early, not quite nine O'clock, when Sarah guided Chuck to the Greyhound terminal and left him in the Winnebago with the engine running. She came back a few minutes later with a slip of paper. Chuck frowned at the paper in her hand as she fiddled with her iPhone. She was acclimating rapidly to the device, and was constantly marveling at the appstore. She was quite possibly addicted to Angry Birds.

Sarah spotted his look and shrugged. "I enciphered the coordinates, where I buried the strongbox," She said, showing him what looked like a standard GPS location to him, until he thought about the latitude and longitude involved. He frowned again. Those coordinates were at least a couple thousand miles east of Vegas.

Sarah again spotted the expression, and explained further. "Yankee stadium, right on top of first base," she said. "There's nothing there, of course. Just a coincidence. I swapped out the seconds from the long with the minutes from the lat, and vice versa. I Looked it up afterward, thinking maybe I could booby-trap that location, but..."

"Yeah," Chuck said, grinning. "I'm no Yankee's fan, but C4 under first would definitely attract some unwanted attention. So, where's the actual stash?"

Sarah waved her iPhone, and a moment later, directions were forthcoming. A couple miles west of the Strip, Sarah's iPhone had them stop at a Starbucks. Sarah blinked and looked at her phone in alarm.

"Um... this the place?"

"Yeah. This wasn't here when I set up the stash. It was a fairly secluded spot back then. Apparently, I didn't pick my secluded spot well enough, for real seclusion."

"You think somebody found it already, during the construction, maybe?"

Sarah winced. "Maybe. But I went in a hundred yards or so from the road. Maybe it's still there."

Chuck and Sarah had puchased a folding shovel from a military surplus store along their route. They piled out of the Winnebago and walked around back. Sarah fought down shivers; the temperature dropped fast in the dry desert air. Luckily, the Starbucks wasn't open at this time of night, so there wasn't anyone to spy on them. Which was a concern in a town like vegas. Some people were always up for coffee and snooping.

Chuck and Sarah took turns with the shovel, and after digging down a foot and a half or so, they uncovered a steel lockbox. "You got the key, or..." Chuck trailed off when Sarah pulled the lockbox up by the plastic handle set into the lid and produced a lockpick set from under her dress. She went through the lock in seconds and flipped the lid open. Inside were several expired passports with yellowing pages. Under the passports were two stacks of banded 50 dollar bills and two stacks of 50 Euro notes. About twenty thousand, maybe twenty five with the Euros involved. Underneath the money was a ziploc bag containing a tiny automatic pistol and a sound suppressor.

Chuck pursed his lips disapprovingly, and Sarah shrugged. "Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it."

Chuck shook his head. "Make sure you hide it good."

Sarah just gave him a look he knew well, and he threw his hands up in the air helplessly, trudging back around the building to the Winnebago.

Sarah had scouted around for places to stash weapons before this, and discovered a small loose panel in the wall behind the built-in table. She worked the slide experimentally. It had been in that ziploc for more than five years, and wouldn't be safe to use until she cleaned and oiled it. Not that she'd kept any ammunition in the stash either. So there was another shopping trip in her future. Sarah peeled the panel loose and tucked the gun back into its plastic bag. With the suppressor affixed it didn't quite fit, the grip poked out the zipper-end, but it was good enough for now. Sarah pressed the loose panel back into place and arched an eyebrow. "Good enough?"

"Yeah," Chuck said. "So, time to hit the Strip?"

Sarah frowned. "Really?"

"You can't come to Vegas and not hit at least one Casino. It's like a law or something. We should at least get a hotel room at one of the fancy hotel and casinos."

"What's the point of getting an RV if we're going to spend money on hotel rooms?"

But Chuck wouldn't budge on the subject, which was how they found themselves at the MGM grand just after 10 O'clock on a Tuesday. It was relatively calm, at least in the lobby, and the receptionist got them a room with only a brief consultation of her computer screen. Chuck was about to pay with a credit card, when Sarah's instincts screamed at her and she seized his wrist, shook her head and produced one of her expired passports and a sheaf of fifties. They headed upstairs briefly to put their luggage in the room. At Chuck's insistence, she left her knives in the room as well.

"You been here before?" Sarah asked once they were on the casino floor. She was on edge, though the crowd wasn't too large and security was fairly tight, so her lack of weaponry didn't bother her as much as it normally would.

"Here specifically, or Vegas."

"Just Vegas."

"Yeah, a few times. Me and Bryce would hit the town with our frat brothers once a semester or so. Sorry, I shouldn't have brought him up."

"No. It's okay, really. I know he was your friend."

"For certain definitions of friend," Chuck said. "He was a complicated guy, but I guess you know that as well as I do."

"Not really. We were partners, but we didn't really talk about our families or our lives, you know? It was pretty much just mission critical information. I think you and I have talked more about our real lives in the last few days than Bryce and I ever did."

Chuck arched an eyebrow.

"I'm serious," Sarah protested.

"I guess I'm just a little shocked. We never really talked about Bryce. He died, and it was always just a little too painful. Neither of us would bring him up, or if we did accidentally, the other would change the subject."

"So, let's change the subject, a little. No maudlin musings," Sarah said. "What did you guys do in vegas. Pick up showgirls?"

"Ha. No. Not for lack of trying on Bryce's part. No, we were here for business. We weren't as big time as the MIT guys, but we always brought home enough to cover the Frat house mortgage for the semester."

"MIT guys?" Sarah was confused.

"They made a movie about them. Using math to beat the casinos at their own game. Card counting," Chuck said when she didn't seem to understand.

She arched an eyebrow.

"I don't plan on doing that tonight, though. Draws too much attention," Chuck tried to change the subject. "Let's get something to drink."

They sat down at the bar and turned on their stools to watch the casino floor. Chuck ordered for her without asking, and Sarah wrinkled her nose. But he ordered the right drink, and it would just make her sound petty if she complained about it.

Sarah sipped her beverage and shook her head. She opened her mouth to say something, when a man with a face like a thunderhead barged up to the bar and shouldered Chuck aside almost into her lap to get the bartender's attention.

"Hey, buddy," Chuck said. "Where's the fire?"

The man glared for a moment and then sighed. "Sorry. Not your fault. Just lost all my damn money. Freaking roulette!"

Sarah blinked and cocked her head to one side, staring hard at Chuck, who was wincing in commiseration. "How much did you lose?"

"All of it. All I've got left is five hundred in traveler's checks. Literally all I've got left."

Chuck shook his head. "Hey, let me at least buy your drink, okay?"

"Thanks."

Chuck rubbed the back of his neck in thought for a moment. "How much exactly, are you down?"

"A little over two grand," he said.

"Maybe I can help."

"You're just going to give me two thousand bucks?" The man said incredulously. "What are you the patron saint of gamblers? I don't even know your name."

"Chuck," he said, putting out his hand to shake.

"Colin," he said, but didn't shake. "I'm not a charity case."

Chuck shrugged uncomfortably. "I didn't say you were. Stake me."

Sarah arched an eyebrow at the non sequitor. "What do you need a steak for? You hungry?"

CHuck rolled his eyes. "Not that kind of stake. It's a fairly common thing. You put up the money, and I do the gambling. We split the profits at the end of the night, after you get back your down payment."

"And what if you lose the last of my money?" Colin said, still skeptical.

Chuck grinned. "I'll pay you back your full losses out of pocket. Hey, I was gonna hit the tables tonight anyway. It gives me a number to shoot for and a ceiling for what I can lose." He still had his hand out ready to shake.

"What the hell," Colin said and grabbed Chuck's hand in a brief knucklebuster of a handshake. "I'll go get some chips."

Once Colin was out of earshot, Sarah pulled Chuck close. "I remember you losing a hundred thousand dollars on one spin of roulette. What makes you think you can do this?"

"That's roulette, baby. I'm going to steer well clear of the wheel of misfortune," he grinned, to show he was glad she'd remembered some of that incident. "And I was under the impression that I was betting one hundred dollars. No thousands involved."

Sarah nodded. "I remember. The expression on your face was priceless. So you do have a plan?"

"Ish. Blackjack is the plan."

"That's a short plan."

"It's the one casino game, that, played properly has a player edge. Even without counting cards. If you memorize the statistics table involved and play with perfect strategy, you've got like a 9 or 10 percent margin."

"What?"

"Means unless the casino is stacking the card shoe somehow I should win more than I lose no matter what, in the long run. Without even resorting to the Intersect."

Colin was back soon with a small stack of 25 dollar chips. He held onto them for a long moment and glared Chuck in the eye, before letting go. Chuck laughed it off, and headed toward the blackjack tables. It was a relatively slow night, and there were a couple of tables with only one or two current players. Chuck went to a fifty dollar limit table and watched over one man's shoulder for a moment, to note he was just playing one hand against the dealer. He nodded and sat down.

"I'd like to play the rest of the seats," Chuck said. The dealer looked him over for a moment, and frowned. That'll be fine, sir."

Chuck planted a single 25 dollar chip at each of the remaining nine places at the table. The other man stared at him as well.

The cards came out, and Chuck scanned the table, did the math in his head. He had a little under half Colin's money out and at risk on the first round. Colin was glaring daggers at him from one side. Sarah rubbed his back and whispered in his ear. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Chuck grinned, and tapped each hand he wanted to hit. He had a pair of sevens on one of his hands that he split, putting the total on the table up to an even two-fifty. Chuck's hands ranged from a single blackjack all the way down to a final sixteen on the far end, that he pondered for a moment and then left as it was.

The dealer showed 16, and true to the casino's printed instructions, had to hit. It was a six. The dealer busted, as Chuck would have if he'd hit his own 16. Chuck grinned, and collected his winnings. He never changed his bets up to the table limit, and the wins trickled in at a steady rate. Chuck almost never busted, thanks to his near perfect play. He called it quits a little after two, with seven thousand three hundred fifty dollars in-hand. After Colin got back his original 500 stake, Chuck took in thirty-four hundred twenty-five dollars. Colin stared at the pile of chips in his arm in shock for a moment, gave Chuck a one armed hug and trundled off to cash in.

Sarah grinned at him. "Nicely done," she said. "But we've got incoming."

Chuck grimaced. "Oh. I guess they still have my picture in the facial recognition database somewhere. Crap."

Sarah arched an eyebrow and he shrugged sheepishly. Two big, meaty-looking men in suits approached them. "Mr Bartowski." They didn't look pleased to see him.

"Relax, guys, I'm done for the night," Chuck said. "And we're leaving in the morning. I was just winning some poor guy his savings back. And your boss only banned me for three years. I'm well outside that."

"Chuck, you're babbling."

"Mr Dwyer lost twenty-two hundred dollars. You won him back his money and then some."

"Look, is forty-one hundred and change really even a drop in the bucket for you guys?"

"Drops add up, Mr. Bartowski," one of the huge men said. "At last count, you personally have taken the casino for seventy thousand dollars, in your career. Where's the rest of your team?" Sarah bave a low whistle and looked at Chuck in surprise.

"No team, scout's honor," Chuck said. "Look, how about I lose some back at roulette. Sarah, here." He counted off enough chips to pay for their meals and room and drinks and passed them to her. That left Chuck with a little over two thousand. "Go cash us out, I'll meet you up at the room in a little bit." He kissed her on the cheek and started over to a roulette table.

Sarah watched his retreating back a little nervously, but the men flanking Chuck had seemed to relax as soon as he mentioned roulette.

Chuck plunked all his remaining chips down onto a single number at random without looking. The croupier nodded. "No more bets." The ball went into the wheel and Chuck nodded to the two men. There was no surer way to throw away money in a casino. He was half a dozen paces toward the elevators, when the Coupier shouted "Winner! 13 is a winner!"

Chuck turned slowly back to the table with a sinking feeling, and blanched slightly at the sight of the man shoving a huge pile of chips over. The math was easy enough. 2000 dollars, at a 35-1 payout... was seventy thousand dollars. About what he'd won from the casino in the course of his entire four years at Stanford.

Chuck smiled sheepishly. "Um. That was unexpected... Let it ride?"

Sarah fished her phone out of her purse. "Hey, Chuck what's up, where are you?"

"Yeah, about that. I won a couple times at roulette."

"What!" Sarah said.

"Yeah. Thirty-five to one payout was seventy grand, and that kind of pissed off the card counting police. So, I let it ride, and won again. Which, seventy thousand times thirty five is two-point six million."

"You won two million dollars?"

"Two point six. Yeah. I'm in the process of losing it back on purpose so the casino doesn't try to break my legs or something. I'm down four hundred thousand now..." Chuck said. "But they've comped us a penthouse suite for the night. They're sending somebody to move our stuff and drop off some champaigne. I just wanted to let you know to expect them."

"Are you going to be alright?"

"I'm fine. I think I've got an understanding with these guys. As long as I lose back down to twenty-five thousand ahead you don't need to come rescue me. Might be another half hour or so... I'm hemoragging money at the moment. Okay, good. I'm down another fifty thousand."

"This is surreal."

"Yeah, losing a hundred thousand a single roulette spin isn't seeming so crazy right now, is it? You want to come down and watch me lose at craps?"

"It's late. I think I'll take a bath in... penthouse suite, you said. That means jacuzzi right?"

"Yeah. Maybe I'll join you before too long."

"You'd better hurry up, then."

Chuck poked his head into the penthouse forty-five minutes later, a little before 3am. "Sarah, you still awake? Took a little longer than I expected."

Silence answered him, so Chuck didn't call again. If she was asleep, he didn't want to wake her. Chuck dropped the leather briefcase holding his winnings next to the sofa and proceeded to explore their new digs for the night. There was a living room with a plasma tv and obviously prohibitively expensive designer furniture. It looked extremely unfomfortable, but after Chuck tried it out, discovered the opposite. Which was the mark of a truly world-class piece of furniture.

He surveyed the penthouse, there was a dining room and kitchen and beyond that he spotted a balcony overlooking the strip. The bedroom had to be through-Sarah in a Nerd Herd uniform-Chuck's inspection of the room ground to a screeching halt.

"Buh..." Chuck said. It didn't look like a single button on that shirt was buttoned. Instead, she had the tails tied into a knot just below her bosom, exposing a large expanse of finely toned midriff. The gray silk tie hung low around her neck. The skirt seemed shorter than regulation as well. There was a strip of pale flesh bare between the hem of her skirt and the top of a pair of black thigh-high stockings. Black high heels added at least three inches to her height and made her strut out of the back bedroom pure poetry in motion.

Chuck tore his eyes off her lush form and met her eyes. It was only a handful of seconds, he hoped. Sarah smirked. "Uh..." Chuck said. He had to clear his throat. "I don't think any of that meets regulations."

"I'm sorry, Mr. supervisor. I'll have to go change..." The smirk widened out into a full-blown grin and she cocked her head toward the bedroom she had just appeared from. Chuck swallowed and hauled himself out of the sofa. Sarah grabbed his wrist and led the way, swaying her hips even more than the spike heels required. Chuck groaned and tried not to stare.

She shoved him roughly back onto the bed and turned on some soft music from her iPhone in the dock by the bedside. Chuck's eyes widened when he recognized Europe's The Final countdown, and then tried to fall out of his face entirely as Sarah began gyrating to the music and working slowly at the knot holding her shirt together.

She stood hipshot for a moment as the knot unraveled and Sarah tossed the shirt open. She wasn't wearing anything under the shirt and she left it half-on, just barely keeping herself covered. Chuck sat leaning back on his elbows and stared in shock as she sauntered closer in time to the music.

"Okay, now I'm sure your uniform doesn'y meet Nerd Herd policy on proper attire."

The corner of Sarah's lip twitched and she stepped up to the edge of the bed, standing with one leg to either side of Chuck's knee. She leaned over and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him forward and up to press a kiss into his lips. She parted his lips insistently with her tongue and Chuck had little choice but to let her deepen the kiss further. Her tongue pinned his out of the way and explored his mouth roughly. Sarah broke the kiss suddenly when Chuck's hand trailed up her thigh and under her skirt. She grinned when his expression suddenly changed. She wasn't wearing anything under the skirt either.

"Oops. I knew I forgot something," she said.

Chuck slid his fingers along the moist flesh he discovered under her skirt, exploring gently.

"If you don't mind breaking character for a moment? What brought on the sexy outfit?"

Sarah shrugged and her shirt half fell off her shoulders. Chuck's eyes crossed. She laughed softly, accidentally on purpose making things jiggle. "Isn't this why I kept it in the first place? I know I don't work at the Wienerlicious anymore, but I had still had the outfit."

Chuck groaned. "Yeah but... you don't need to dress up in costumes for me..."

"Chuck? You know you complain about the silliest things, right?"

He nodded. "I'm aware of my tendencies."

"Isn't there something better you can think of to be doing with your mouth?"

"My fingers too," Chuck agreed, and plunged two of them up into her folds, waggling his hand and grinding his palm against her clit.

Sarah gasped and hunched over in shock, clutching a handful of his hair for balance. Which brought his face into close proximity with his secondary objective. Chuck captured the tip of her breast in his mouth and sucked hard. Sarah whimpered and straightened, body going tense around his curling, searching fingers.

Sarah struggled the rest of her way out of the shirt and not to tug herself out of range of Chuck's lips and fingers and-she let loose a moan- his tongue did to her.

Chucks free hand went up for a moment, squeezing her unoccupied breast firmly and decisively. Then he pulled away, teasing the aroused nipple with his teeth as he released it to move his head across to her other breast.

Next he dropped his free hand to work the belt of her short black skirt. He tugged the belt hard and yanked it clean out of the skirt, and began sliding it down over her hips. Sarah shimmied, and Chuck retracted his fingers to let the skirt fall.

She stood above him, naked save for a gray silk necktie and her black thigh-highs.

Chuck grinned at the sight. He wondered idly why she was still wearing the tie, and took the end of the tie between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently.

Sarah immediately dropped to her knees, kissing him hard on the way down, and then attacked his belt. Chuck opened his mouth to protest, but the she had his zipper open and his boxers out of the way and he groaned instead as she took him in her mouth roughly.

The old saw about golf balls and garden hoses came briefly to mind, and Chuck felt himself blush furiously watching Sarah's head bobbing energetically.

Chuck shifted on the edge of the bed, sitting up straight so that he could reach down and cup one of her breasts in either hand. Her nipples were hard and tight against his palms, and Sarah moaned

around him in surprise, the sound muffled by her full mouth.

The vibrations of it sent a shiver down Chuck's spine and he gasped. He didn't want it to be over so soon. Chuck grabbed Sarah by the shoulder and tugged he backward. Her cheeks hollowed with suction and the tip popped free with a pop. She looked up at him quizzically.

"You're too good at that," Chuck said, panting for breath. He stooped and wrapped his arms around her waist, and hoisted her up and around onto the bedspread. Sarah yelped in surprise at the sudden movement, but just writhed naked but for her stockings and Nerd Herd tie, rubbing her breasts and core.

"You're wearing too many clothes," Sarah complained.

Chuck figured turnabout being fair play, he took his time getting undressed, and whirled his shirt in a circle over his head before tossing it aside. Sarah grinned up at him and scooted down the bed at him as he toed his shoes off and struggled to get his pants off over his feet. Chuck sat down on the edge of the bed to do it, and Sarah wrapped her long stocking-clad legs around him from behind, pressed her breasts into his back and gave a long sucking kiss to the side of his neck. "Playing with fire," Chuck growled and spun in the circle of her legs, pushing her over flat on her back and capturing her mouth with his.

Sarah shifted her legs to accomodate him atop her, hugging her thighs around his hips as he thrust. Chuck grinned against her and g

changed the angle at the last moment, rubbing the tip hard against her folds and gliding the underside up along her center, instead of penetrating. He held himself up on his elbow and used his hand to rub her nether lips with the head of his cock slowly but firmly. Side to side and up and down across her sensitive flesh.

She moaned aloud. "Oh, god you fucking tease," Sarah growled throatily. "What are you waiting for...?" She bucked her hips into him, trying to alter the angle enough to slip him into her opening. Chuck jerked his hips back an inch to stop her succeeding. "Chuck, please," Sarah whined.

Chuck covered her mouth with his and couldn't resist any longer. He thrust into her in one slow thrust until he rested full against her. Sarah groaned tightened around him. Her spy instincts screamed at her for letting him pin her to the bed like that, and she tried to flip him over onto his back and take back control.

Chuck kissed her harder and shook his head. He broke the kiss long enough to murmur, "Not this time," into her neck, and spread his arms and legs to short-circuit the flip. Sarah's eyes widened in astonishment before he began moving in earnest.

The feel of her slick tight heat wrapping around him was almost too much for Chuck to bear, from the very first moments. He palmed both her breasts for better grip and thrust his hips hard. Sarah bit her lip and her moans peaked every time his hips slapped against her. Chuck squeezed her breasts and rolled her nipples hard between his fingers, but that wasn't enough to distract him from the tableau presented by her gasps of pleasure and the way she continued to tighten around him.

He pushed up, still squeezing her breasts, but altering the angle. Sarah's moans became breathless, and he took one hand from her breasts to rub her clit. Sarah gasped and couldn't contain her moans to a dull roar any longer. "Oh, fuuuuck..." she cried out. Chuck took the end of the tie and draped it over her mouth, and Sarah bit down on the fabric to muffle her cries of pleasure. Chuck was trying anything he could to distract himself from how wet and tight and hot she was around him, squeezing. And only going to get worse; he recognized the signs of her impending climax, and he didn't want it to be over so quick. Chuck remembered some saying about reciting baseball stats to yourself, but didn't follow the sport.

The thought came on him just in time, and Chuck started counting. Sarah clenched around him, eyes rolling up and shuddering her climax into her Nerd Herd tie. Chuck's stroke faltered, slowing to a stop until she recovered from the orgasm, then resuming at a slower pace. 2,3,5,8,13,21,34,55,89,144... As the numbers got higher, he would slow while he did the math in his head, before thrusting hard when he finished a calculation.

Sarah gasped and moaned and met his eyes hazily. "Chuck? What are you... ohmahgod... what are you whispering... are those... numbers-aaagh!"

Chuck hit the 4000s before he couldn't stand any more and fell full length atop her, pumping his hips in a last furious assualt. They came at almost exactly the same time, Sarah tightening just as he spent himself deep within her. Thay lay in each others arms panting breath back into exhausted frames.

"What was that you were whispering," Sarah demanded. "It was driving me crazy!"

Chuck rolled half off her, and Sarah followed, flipping them over so she could rest her head on his chest. "Sorry. Didn't know I was saying it out loud. I was doing the fibonacci numbers in my head to prolong things. I hear some guys use baseball statistics."

Sarah laughed. "God, you are such a nerd," she said fondly.

"Not just any nerd. King of the nerds."

The silence was comfortable and he rubbed tiny circles in the small of her back. He could tell she was going broody though, after a couple minutes. Chuck kissed her shoulder gently, nudging Sarah out of her reverie. "What'cha thinkin' 'bout?"

"Mmm?" Sarah said hazily. "Not much, after that last performance..."

"Something's been bugging you, I can tell. It's not..."

"It's not you. Or I don't know, maybe it is."

"Uh-oh."

Sarah shrugged and dropped her eyes. "Why are you even with me?"

"Oh, okay. You had me worried for a second there."

"I'm serious!"

"I totally know. We had something like this conversation in that room in Paris you remembered for a second."

"Really? I don't remember us doing much talking."

"Yeah, well. You know... after that. And to answer a question with a question, have you met you?"

Sarah rolled her eyes at him. "Now I'm serious. I'm not talking about surface detail here, because, unquestionably the hottest female ever to walk the earth on two legs."

"And you're not biased," Sarah said. "Of course not."

Chuck kissed somewhere in the vicinity of her shoulder blade. "Not my point. That was in the way of a preamble." He shifted around and cupped a hand over her heart. Even though he was touching her breast, there was nothing sexual in the touch. "I can't deny that my first reaction to meeting you was oh my god how can this woman actually exist. But you think that because you grew up a con-woman, and that you killed some people working for the government you don't deserve love. The sheer strength it took for you to actually reach out and let me see _you _behind the agent facade. The heart it took. This right here... that was astounding to me. I think if nothing else, I'd love you just for that."

"I don't remember reaching out, is the problem."

"Also, I kind of have a 'type'. Genius level IQ is sort of required.."

Sarah rolled her eyes, "If we're both so smart, why did it take three years for us to get together the first time?"

"If you think you're so _dumb_, why did it only take us a month to get together after you had five years of your memory wiped out?"

"You really love answering questions with questions, don't you?

"Well of course, who doesn't?"

"Statistically there'd have to be someone, wouldn't there?"

"Have you taken into account Bayesian statistics?"

"That's not a thing, is it?"

They bantered on in that fashion for a while, until Chuck forfeited the game on purpose and pressed a kiss to her lips, trailing one hand down between her legs.

Sarah's eyes widened. "Again?"

Chuck merely gave her a grin and nodded, dipping his head to nibble at her collarbone and parts further south.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This time, a different kind of action instead of smut. But also, some smut.

IV: Sarah vs the Highway Patrol

Chuck scanned the road ahead, pausing in his spelling, then nodded to himself. "Eye. Ae. En. Eye. Es. Em. Antidisestablishmentarianism ." Their game of Spelling Bee had been getting somewhat cutthroat, considering the stakes. Sarah's original rule change had been expanded to 'loser does whatever the winner says for half an hour'. The plan was to take at least two days to get to salt lake city. They were about sixty miles outside of Vegas, which had taken them three hours. So, that was probably about right.

Sarah shrugged grumpily that he'd gotten her word so easily. "Okay, your turn to think up a word for me to spell." Chuck thought for a long time. Scanning the road for any Volkswagen or yellow vehicles, for their other ongoing games. Sarah was ahead in Slug bug, but Chuck was nearing the 30 points it would take to win the current round of the banana game. Chuck turned on the Winnebago's blinkers and shifted to pass a slow moving big rig on the Interstate. "Okay, I got it," Chuck said as they pulled past the eighteen wheeler. "'Tetrachlorodibenzoparadioxin ," Chuck pronounced quickly and distinctly, not stumbling once over the tongue twister of a word.

Sarah's jaw dropped open and she just sat in the passenger seat with her bare feet up on the dash for a long moment. She blinked. "What?"

"Tetrachlorodibenzoparadioxin ," Chuck repeated.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Pull over, you win. No more sexy spelling bee with you after this. We're going back to the Grocery Game." She tucked her feet down off the dash and undid her seatbelt and Chuck pulled off to the side of the interstate and brought the RV to a final halt.

She hopped to her feet, grabbed Chuck's wrist and led him back toward the bedroom. "Okay, what do you want as your forfeit? Another blowjob, or are you going to get creative this time?"

"Depends what you mean, by creative?" Chuck said.

"Well, the whole point of these forfeits are that nothing's out of bounds, Chuck," Sarah said.

Chuck shrugged. "Why do I have to be the creative one? You're the one who lost the spelling bee. There, that's what I'll claim as my forfeit. Surprise me. But make it something really naughty."

"I think that goes without saying," Sarah rolled her eyes. She paused and thought about it. "Hmmm... what's the naughtiest thing I can think of... Yes, that would fit the bill. Or have we already done anal before?"

Chuck's jaw dropped and he sputtered for a moment, staring at her in shock.

"I'll take that as a no. Relax, if I haven't given it up to you yet, I'm keeping my anal virginity as a reward for a really special occasion." Chuck went an adorable shade of puce when she said that. "Hmm... I wonder why we haven't done it. I always figured on my wedding night I would say yes to just about anything. Did I say no? Or did you just not ask?"

Chuck's blush deepened and he shrugged. "I never even thought about asking."

"Oh. Then I guess that would meet your 'surprise me' criteria, except that we've talked about it, now," Sarah grinned and cupped one hand under her chin, leaning over on her elbow, tapping her fingers idly on her cheek.. "Hmm... what to do, what to do..." the grin flashed wider suddenly. "Got it! Lie down."

Chuck eyed her nervously. "How acrobatic is this going to be? Should I go put in my mouthguard?"

She pondered that for a moment. "Nah, just lie down," Sarah said, hands already unbuckling his belt, not waiting until they went the next ten feet to the bedroom. Sarah shoved him back onto the couch, hauled his belt all the way out of his belt-loops and tossed it aside before dipping down to begin to unbutton his jeans. "I may need a hand later, but for now, lie back and enjoy the spoils of victory."

Sarah nudged his Slurm t-shirt up to expose some of his torso so she could breath on him and give him goosebumps. Chuck groaned and Sarah climbed lengthwise onto the sofa, working his jeans down his hips until he popped out. She jerked back, narrowly avoided getting smacked in the face by his erection. That made her laugh. "Somebody's eager," she said, grinned and gave the side of his cock a nice long lick, up to the tip, then all the way down to play with his balls for a moment. Sarah flicked her head to get her hair out of the way and met his eye for a moment, then braced herself and kicked her legs back up, going into a precarious handstand. Her arms flexed, holding her weight up off of him. Her floral-print sundress (a different one from yesterday) fell down to expose the black throwing knife scabbard on her left thigh, her lime green panties, and most of her back.

Chuck's eyebrows tried to climb right off the top of his face. "Are... how do... are you really going to..."

"Pick a question. Put a hand up on my hip, to steady me," Sarah said upside down. "This is trickier than I thought."

"Uh... can you really do this? I'd think your neck would get a crick very fast."

Sarah's upside down shrug was an achievement to rival Olympic gymnasts. But then a moment later she wobbled and bent her knees and spread her legs slightly for better balance, "How should I know? I never tried the handstand-bj before," she said and awkwardly craned her head, lowering herself in her handstand to try and nudge the tip around with her tongue and cheek to where she could get at it with her mouth. Sarah snorted a laugh at the comical nature of her fumbling. "You going to help me?"

"Nope," Chuck said. "I'm enjoying the show."

"Mmm I can tell," Sarah said, and finally got the angle right. She took the tip of his shaft in her mouth and rolled her head around to take him deeper. She tried to bob her head, but the angle was all wrong. Sarah rolled her head from side to side, working him around on her tongue and hollowing her cheeks sucking at the tip. He'd been right, the awkward mechanics of a handstand blowjob dictated what she could do in this position. And it was a lot more tiring than she expected it to be. Keeping her balance in the handstand was precarious.

Chuck groaned and put both hands on her waist, supporting most of her weight. His arms strained holding her up, but he wasn't about to mention it. That let her alter the angle and stop craning her neck so much. Sarah made a happy noise, with just that extra inch of separation she could bob her head freely, and work up to her preferred rhythm. She waggled her head from side to side as well, putting a different motion into things than she'd tried before. The top of her head was resting gently on Chuck's abdomen, hair splaying wildly across him. Chuck let loose with another groan and shuddered, holding himself back from thrusting into her mouth. God, she loved that shudder. She'd only done this for him a few of times since they'd hit the road, but his restraint every single time she was trying her damnedest to quite literally blow his mind never failed to send a thrill down her spine. Sarah sped up her rhythm and sucked harder than ever, and his hands tightened on her waist. He must be getting close. She even loved it when he finally lost that restraint. Sarah moaned around him as Chuck suddenly stiffened. "Oh, goad..." Chuck panted and tipped over the edge into his climax.

"Nevada highway patrol!" Someone shouted, and banged on the door. Sarah startled and jerked back in a coughing fit and lost her balance.

"Whoa shit!" She started toppling and Chuck tried to catch her, but his reaction time was understandably sluggish. Her momentum toppled them both off onto the floor of the rear living area in a jumbled up tangle of limbs, landing in a thump.

"Ow," Chuck said. Sarah's head had butted him in the groin and she lay sprawled adjacent to him. He was cradling his junk protectively.

"Seriously," Sarah said, rubbing her hip, where a bruise was forming from landing on Chuck's discarded belt. Why did he have to have such a big belt buckle anyway? She tugged the thing out from under her butt and flung it angrily back toward the bedroom. "You alright?"

His eyes were watering slightly. "I think I'll live," Chuck got out after a moment.

"Nevada highway patrol!" The voice shouted again.

Chuck winced, blushing. "Did we put the front sun-shade up? Maybe somebody saw us?"

Sarah shook her head, mostly to regain her equilibrium. "They'd be telling us to get dressed. Put little Chuck away," she said. "I'll have to kiss it and make it better for you later." She scrambled to her feet and smoothed her sundress down over her hips. A sudden rip of velcro came a moment before she whipped her knife-holster off from under her skirt and tossed it at him. "Put those away too, I'll answer the door," She said, wiping spittle off her chin as she went forward.

Sarah glanced back at him and paused at the side door until he finished zipping up and buttoning his pants. "Hang on, I'm almost there," she said. Then she pushed the door out. A patrolman was pointing a pistol in her face.

"Step out of the vehicle, please."

"I'm sorry," Sarah started, putting her hands up. "We can move the car, we were just, uh, figuring out our next stop."

"Out of the vehicle and hands on your head. Are you alone in there?"

"No," Sarah said. She let the confusion show. "What did we do wrong?"

"Anyone else in there, come out where I can see you. Slowly," he said. Then raised his voice. "Carl, get around the driver's side." Then back to talking at her. Chuck poked his empty hands around the doorframe. "Okay, come on down out of there, you first, guy."

Chuck nodded and did as he was told, mouthing a silent apology toward Sarah. "Can you tell us what the problem is?"

"You're driving a vehicle that has been reported stolen."

"That's impossible," Sarah said.

"Slowly!" the cop said, shifting his gun to cover Sarah. She turned in her bottom lip and glared at the cop. There were two more coming around the sides of the Winnebago, also with guns out, or she would have taken the pistol from him and knocked his block off. "Okay, hands on your head, did you forget?"

Chuck and Sarah stood off on the shoulder, hands on their heads, while the other two came over and put them in handcuffs. The first officer came over and sat them down. Sarah had to sit awkwardly to keep her skirt from rising up and baring her panties.

"IDs?" the cop said brusquely.

"My back pocket," Chuck said.

"My purse, behind the seats up front," Sarah said.

Two of the cops went up into the 'bago, and the third kept an eye on them. Chuck leaned in close. "How sure are we that these are real cops."

"You're pretty paranoid..." Sarah said. "If somebody did report the winnie stolen, they're following procedure pretty much to the letter." She cocked her head, watching through the open door. "Hey! What the hell are you looking for going through my clothes? Perverts!"

"I found something!" one shouted, and came out into the doorway with Sarah's throwing knives. "Care to explain these?"

"I thought you were stopping us cause our vehicle was stolen," Chuck said. He relaxed visibly. They hadn't found the nearly fifty grand in assorted currency, not to mention her silenced pistol. Thankfully, he'd acceded to her need to hide the money. "And since when is it illegal to own cutlery?"

"Cutlery he says," the leader, Sarah assumed, shook his head.

"Those are mine," Sarah said. "For self defense."

"Okay, now, before we book you, what are your names."

He sighed. "I'm Chuck Bartowski."

"And you, ma'am?"

"Sarah Walker," she said.

The other cop shook his head. "Then why have you got a driver's license that says Sarah Bartowski? You two married or siblings?"

"It's complicated. But we're definitely not siblings," Chuck said.

"Divorced then?"

"Separated," Sarah said. That was the closest she could come in under a second to describing their situation satisfactorily.

"I only saw one bed made up in there."

"We're trying to fix things. Give it one last shot," Sarah said. Chuck let her tell the story, thankfully. Easier not to get tripped up that way. Trying to cooperatively tell a cover story was how the whole 'bear' situation had occurred. Sarah blinked and fought a grin at the memory.

"So you steal an RV together?"

"Winnebago," Chuck corrected. "And we didn't steal anything. We bought it yesterday in LA from a dealership. The paperwork is in the glove-box. This is some kind of crazy mix-up."

"Go check the glove-box," the leader said.

After maybe a minute, the one who'd gone back inside returned with the title and registration documents in hand. "He's telling the truth. The joint title's in their names. Chuck and Sarah Bartowski. Doesn't look like a forgery..."

"We're gonna have to take you back to the station until we sort this out," the leader said.

The highway patrol manhandled them into the back of a cruiser, and one of them went and drove the 'bago along behind to the local Patrol Station north of Logandale.

In the back seat, Chuck shook his head. "This is going from bad to worse. Somebody reported our Winnebago stolen. When they call it in, that somebody's going to come looking for us. I think this is a trap."

Sarah bit her lip. "I think you're right. But the big question, aside from who the hell is after us, is: are these guys going to believe us that anybody is after us in the first place?"

"I don't know. I mean, we're both on the books as ex-CIA, so maybe, if they can get to that information?"

"Ex-CIA, especially from our line of work, they don't like admitting you worked for them at all," Sarah whispered. "They're going to get the runaround until we convince them to let us talk to whoever they get on the phone. And by then we might be up to our necks in assassins."

"So, what do we do? If we try to break out, they've got our real names. We'd have to go on the run."

"Better that than dead," Sarah said.

"What are you two whispering about back there?"

"Nothing," Chuck said.

Sarah glared at him for a moment, and then lifted her bare feet, mimed a kick. She wanted him to kick out the metal grating in onto the Highway Patrolmen in the front seat. Together, if they timed it right, they could probably do it. But Chuck shook his head.

"You got a better plan?" she said, whispering even lower, hopefully below what the cops up front could notice.

Chuck shrugged. "Maybe. Talking is always preferable to fighting."

Sarah wasn't convinced. But, then she was still adjusting to the idea that she wasn't a CIA officer any longer. There was nobody to clear things up with the Nevada state highway patrol if she and Chuck broke out of custody and disappeared. She'd lived under enough assumed names in her life, and though her official namechange to Sarah Bartowski was still something that had to be taken on faith, she wasn't sure she wanted to give it up before she was even ready to start thinking of herself that way. They hadn't done anything wrong, really, so odds were good they wouldn't be put in a holding cell. So they could bide their time and escape later if Chuck's talky solution didn't pan out.

The ride was short, just a few miles south and then the turn-off for Logandale. Ten minutes tops in the back of the cruiser before they pulled into a barren sun-bleached blacktop parking lot. The patrolman driving their RV pulled in and through around the backside of the long low patrol station.

"I'm following your lead," Sarah said into the moment of privacy they had while the officers came around the door to let them out.

Chuck nodded. "If it comes to it," he said. "The go-signal for a bustout is Pineapple."

"Got it," Sarah said, and then they were scooting out and being led into the building. One of the officers led them to a bench and uncuffed Sarah momentarily, transferring the handcuff to the bench rail. Then he did the same to Chuck, leaving them side by side.

"What about my phone call?" Chuck said.

"You're not under arrest, really," he said. "This is just a really weird situation. Who do you want us to call?"

"Do we really need the handcuffs then?" Chuck said.

The Highway patrol officer looked around. The station was deserted except for the other two had accompanied them in. Either it was a down time or all the rest were still covering the highway for speeders. "Probably not. Okay," he uncuffed them and then waved a finger. "But please stay by the bench." Then he seemed to remember. "Who do you want us to call?"

"General Diane Beckman at the NSA," Chuck said. There was no use trying to go to anyone else.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's kind of complicated," Chuck said. "But she's probably your best bet to clear this up fast. And we really need to clear this up fast. Because, maybe she set this up to get us to call in. If she didn't though, chances are that somebody else is using the stolen car thing to track us down. I'm guessing they don't want to get together for drinks."

He just stood there like somebody had hit him in the head with a stick. Utter shock, jaw dropped open dumbly. His brain started grinding back into action after a few seconds and he looked them in the eye, first Chuck then Sarah. "You're not kidding."

"Nope," Sarah said. "Did you report us in when you spotted our RV?'

"Yeah, of course. You think these hypothetical bad guys have a tap into our computers?"

"More likely they've got a tap into the whole state's police system," Chuck said. "It's not that difficult to set up. One bent police officer can set up an email alert. But... we've probably got some time before they show up here, just from the geometry of the situation. I don't think they'll have staged teams all over the country. Probably they're flying out from LA as we speak. So it'll be a couple hours before they can be on scene here."

"Unless they were basing out of Vegas," Sarah said. "Then a helicopter could get them here in another twenty minutes maybe, if it's a good chopper. And they scrambled as soon as the log got put in the computers. That's how I'd have done it. Vegas is more centrally located than LA, and they probably guessed we were leaving LA, since they detected our RV purchase."

"This is crazy, you know that, right?"

"Welcome to my life," Chuck said.

"You should just let us go," Sarah said. "We can draw them off in the RV. If they're in a helicopter it'll be pretty visible from the air."

"Are you still active duty?" He said. "In the NSA, I mean."

"No, and it was CIA," Chuck said.

"Then we can't let you do that," the cop said. "You're civilians. If people are really after you, you need protection."

"Believe me, we know how to take care of ourselves."

"But we're unarmed," Chuck said, "aside from your knives."

"We're wasting time," Sarah said. "The longer we sit around talking about it the closer they get."

"If you're not just horribly paranoid. If you're not just lying out your asses."

"Then get Beckman on the phone," Chuck said. "Call Fort Meade."

It took them a few minutes to get the number for the Ft. Meade switchboard. It wasn't exactly classified, but they also didn't advertise. Chuck could have given them Beckman's direct line, but then they wouldn't have had the reassurance of knowing who they were actually calling. Chuck and Sarah could have had someone on standby to pretend to be a General, and have forged a title with their names on it, if they were crafty enough criminals.

Sarah and Chuck were left pretty much to themselves for those minutes, time trickling away. No way to know if the pursuit was hours or minutes away. Or if there even was pursuit.

At last, they got somebody at NSA on the phone, but the Highway patrol was getting the runaround. Another ten minutes. They dropped the name Bartowski, and that seemed to get things moving, but it was still adding up. Finally they got Beckman herself on the phone. Then, disaster. "What the hell!"

Chuck perked up from his whispered conversation with Sarah. That was a bad sign. "What's wrong," Sarah said, darting to her feet.

"I got disconnected," he said. "Now I'm gonna have to start all over," the patrolman tapped the hook a couple of times to reset the connection, and his brow furrowed. He replaced the receiver for a few seconds and then put it back to his ear. "Garry, try your cell. The land line's dead."

"Son of a bitch," Sarah whispered. "Where's the armory? You need to give us weapons."

"No way. Ex-cia or not. You're civilians!"

"We're out of time," Sarah insisted. "No offense, but the three of you with pistols against whatever's coming you don't have a chance. I'm not dying because you're too stubborn to see sense."

"Now look!" He stood up, face turning red, and then let out a sigh and fell, blood pumping out a hole in his back.

"Down! Sniper!" Sarah tackled Chuck and peered out into the station around her cover to see what she saw. Just a bullet hole high up in one of the glass panes of the front door. Even if the man had a good field of fire, they were safe down on the floor, for the moment. Sarah crawled over and retrieved the downed officer's weapon and two spare magazines. The other two highway patrolmen were in shock, staring wildly at the windows, but at least they had instinctively taken cover.

"Stay down!" Sarah hissed, "One of you cover the doors. Where's the armory?"

"Back there," one of them pointed. "Jesus, is he dead?"

"I didn't bother to check. From the bullet placement, I'd say he's on the way if he's not dead already," Sarah said. "It's not like there's anything we could do for him anyway. Unless you've got a level 1 trauma hospital up one of your sleeves? Armory keys! Now!"

A shaky breath, then a pitched set of keys. Sarah caught them easily and high crawled between the desks, keeping low enough not to give the sniper another shot.

Chuck followed, and then blushed when he accidentally got a look up Sarah's flippy sundress skirt. He tried to blank the image out of his brain. This was no time for that kind of distraction. He put his head down and kept his eyes on the linoleum. After a minute or so of crawling, the linoleum gave way to carpet, and then Chuck ran into Sarah's backside with the top of his head. "Agh! Chuck what the hell!"

"Sorry! Sorry! I was trying not to look up your skirt..."

"So you stick your nose up my butt?" Sarah said as she hauled herself upright. And shuffled the keys until she found a likely candidate. The key went in, and she threw open the gun cabinet. "Never mind, here, load," she tossed him a shotgun and a box of shells.

Chuck's hands worked independent of any conscious thought on his part, tearing open the cardboard flap with his thumbs and dumping a pile of shells out into his hand. He fed rounds into the port on the bottom of the shotgun until it was full and Sarah exchanged the loaded gun with another empty shotgun. Chuck kept loading. Sarah put the first shotgun in the crook of her arm while she pawed through the weaponry in search of a pistol belt. Her sundress was hardly the proper attire for a gunfight, and they hadn't let her put shoes on.

She found what she was looking for, a fully kitted out police belt, and quickly strapped it on. Gun, cuffs, pepper spray. Two spare magazines. It was a Glock, which Sarah had used in her training, but wasn't her preferred weapon. It was really just a matter of style more than anything. The Glock was just as reliable as her old Smith & Wesson, and fired the same rounds, and had roughly the same number of bullets in a magazine. But the Smith & Wesson had an external safety, while the Glock used a different system. Just by putting your finger on the trigger, you tripped a tiny integral lever and the safety disengaged. Sarah missed the external safety.

Chuck jumped in place and then hunched down as gunfire ripped through the patrol station. Sarah grimaced and crouched next to him, spun the shotgun around into her hands and racked the pump to chamber a round. "Stay low and follow me."

He peered around her into the hall, and held up a finger for her to wait. Sarah poked her head out into the hall. She heard faint- was that coughing? "Crap. They're using tear gas. We need to rethink this," Sarah said, turning back to Chuck.

He already had a gasmask propped up on the top of his head, and a second stretched out toward her. She grinned and took the mask, yanked the strap over the crown of her head and the world took on a hollow disembodied feeling. Her breath hissing in her ears like- a flash of memory trying to start up, and she stomped down on it hard. She couldn't afford the distraction. She didn't want to lose the memory forever, and it hurt thinking maybe that was her one shot at getting back whatever it had been. She snugged the 12-gauge in tight to her shoulder and duckwalked back down the hall the way they had come. Both cops were still alive, the gunfire must have been them returning fire. It hadn't been loud enough for rifle fire, now that she thought about it. Chuck slid another pair of gasmasks across the floor toward the cops, and Sarah nodded.

She rolled into cover behind one of the desks, near the thickest of the teargas. It was hard to be sure. Sarah went deeper into the gas, scraping one of her knees and grimacing behind the mask. She found the canister blindly with ther fingers, grabbed it and stood. There was a thick cloud of gas all around her. Plenty to obscure her. She turned and whipped the canister back toward the front door, where it continued to spew out the noxious gas.

The gas outlined two men coming in the front door. The building shook with an explosion. More coming in the back. Sarah braced her shotgun to her shoulder lined up the sights on the shadowy figure and squeezed. She racked the pump and dropped to a knee. Suppressed gunfire came back her way, but the move to one knee sent the three round burst up over her head. She squeezed again and the second man went down.

Sarah low-crawled forward to check the guys. More gunfire, from behind her. She recognized the throaty bass boom of Chuck's shotgun, and more pistol rounds going off. The cops helping out with the rest of the crew. Another chattering blast from a suppressed assault weapon of some kind. Fear clenched her heart in a vise, but then Chuck's shotgun went off again. She could just make out the click-chack of the pump action.

She did the math. Assuming they'd brought a blackhawk or similar, they could have as many as a dozen men, but they'd have had to skimp on heavier equipment for those kind of were already down three or four men. No further shadowy shapes in the smoke ahead of her as she approached the front doors. The gunfire to her rear petered out. Chuck shouted "two down."

Plus the sniper was five. Sarah didn't risk revealing her position by responding aloud. If they had a blackhawk, that wasn't even half their total strength. But what if it wasn't a blackhawk. What if it was a civilian chopper? A Bell 200something was more likely than a Blackhawk. Think it through. If they had the manpower to burn would they have bothered with the phony stolen vehicle report. She crawled further forward until she was right on top of the two men she'd taken down. She felt along one man's side, half-blind in the gas. Weapon, her hands told her, and Sarah eased the sling up off the corpse, claimed the gun for herself. UZI her training declared. With a foot-long can suppressor on the end. An odd choice of weapon. Older; H&K made an MP5 with an integral silencer that was more accurate, had a higher cyclic rate and was quieter. All around a better weapon. But they only had access to UZIs, which was suggestive.

Thrown together mission, shoestring budget. No blackhawk. No half a dozen other men in combat gear heading their way. If there were, they'd have piled in all at once instead of trying a risky 2-front-2-back entry. Just the lone sniper, or maybe one other. Most civilian choppers only had room for six, at best. Like an SUV that flew. There wouldn't be a big margin for extra or heavy weapons. The pilot was probably doubling as an assault trooper. She craned her neck and got up a little higher, still keeping below the line of windows. "Where are you? Sarah? Are you alright?"

"Fine. Two down on my end too," she said. They were close enough now she didn't have to raise her voice too much.

Chuck and the two cops loomed out of the smoke. "I think that's most of them," Sarah said. She outlined her thinking quickly, mindlessly, while her brain kicked into gear on the problem of the sniper. Who had to know by now that the rest of his team wasn't coming back out.

If it was her, if Sarah was the sniper, she'd be long gone. ⅔ of her team KIA, mission abort every time. No. She'd stick around long enough to be sure they were KIA, not captured, one way or another. Snipers were for overwatch and support. With nobody to support, would the sniper even bother sticking around? Depends on the objective, depends on who they were working for. Whether a mission failure was going to result in a note in a service jacket or a bullet in the head. Too many unknowns, too many unknowables. Assume the sniper hadn't bailed. That he still had one surviving buddy. The odds had shifted. Six on four in the bad guys' favor had swung suddenly to three on two in the good guys' favor. Unless there was a second helicopter coming in from someplace else. This crew was obviously out of Vegas, from the fast response time. The LA team, if there was one, couldn't be anything less than an hour away, even at max throttle for a civilian helicopter, 150 mph or so. But two people could box them in for that long, surely. Especially when one had a sniper rifle and a decent field of fire.

Sarah wracked her brain. Coming in, there'd been a rise off the side of the road that would make a good sniper hide, covering the front half of the building. Enough height to maybe see in the side windows, but the shades were drawn. And it was close, only a couple hundred yards. Sarah didn't remember any better cover further back, but that didn't mean anything. "You got any smoke grenades?"

"Tear gas launcher in the armory."

"Where," Sarah said. "I couldn't find it. And this stuff'll be thinning out before much longer."

The threat of a sniper's bullet coming at them from some unknown quarter if they stood up was nerve-racking. "Tear gas as a smoke screen? It could work."

Sarah handed off her shotgun to one of the cops, and looped her captured uzi over her shoulder on its strap. The pilot would be looping around the back, probably. The sniper had the front and probably both sides covered with at least glancing fire. If the sniper was alone, he'd be moving to cover the back too, thinking nobody'd be dumb enough to head out that way. "Any windows or doors out back?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, one of you get the tear gas, the other show me the rear exits. And where did you put my purse?"

"It's on the sergeant's desk,"

"Keep low," Sarah headed back that way and tucked her purse under her arm. She pulled the uzi off long enough to put her purse strap over her opposite shoulder. The straps criss-crossed in the middle of her chest, cutting into her breast uncomfortably. Sarah made an adjustment, and Chuck coughed inside his gas mask. "You alright?"

"Fine," he said averting his eyes.

Sarah peeked out a rear-facing window, taking the lay of the land. The one story patrol station was the highest thing in the immediate vicinity in that direction, except for the Winnebago parked nearby. It was really only fifty yards or so. At a full sprint, maybe six or seven seconds in good running shoes. A death sentence barefoot, on the hot baked gravel.

She wiggled her toes on the cool flooring and tried to come up with something. There wasn't much cover-or any really- between the patrol station and the winnie. Beyond it, the closest cover was another hundred yards off. The second guy was in or on top of or behind the RV. It was the only logical place for him to be. She figured on top was the best spot, better sight-lines and could cover both sides of the building if they managed to come out the side window or something and not get cut down by the sniper. She listened to the rasp of air through her gas mask for a moment.

"How are you coming on that tear gas?" she said.

"Ready, where do you want it?"

"One between us and the Winnebago, think you can lob one on top? And one at the front and back wheel-well? Box it in."

"You think one of 'em's inside it?" Chuck asked.

Sarah shook her head."I think he's on top. But hiding underneath might not be a bad play either."

"We tried to radio for backup, but we just got static."

"They'll have a jammer nearby. Probably with the sniper out front," Sarah said. "Give me your socks."

"Who?"  
"Anybody," Sarah said. "I don't want to walk out there barefoot."

"You should let us do that," one of the cops said muffled by his gasmask. "We're trained police-"

Sarah snorted a laugh. "I'm CIA. I've killed trained police with my bare hands."

That shut them up. They had a heavy duty Milcor cylinder-feed 40mm grenade launcher for the tear-gas. Like a huge futuristic six-shooter, which Sarah was pleased to see. That meant they could put out a proper curtain of tear-gas rounds, instead of having to wait while they reloaded the old standard M-79 single-shot version four times. It opened up several tactical options.

"They'll have a pinhole frequency," Sarah said. "So the sniper and the guy out back can talk. Chuck, find it and get on it, jam it if you can."

Chuck nodded. "Can I get back my smart phone?"  
"Yes. How does that help?"

"Trade secrets," he said.

"How long you need?"

"Ten minutes?"

"Okay, officer. How much tear gas do you have?"

"A dozen or so."

"Put three out the front, space them out left to right. No time pressure."

Chuck pulled off his shoes and socks and passed them over before tugging his shoes back on. Sarah nodded thanks and slid them over her feet.

"We've got rain boots somewhere," the other cop said.

"If you can get them without poking your head into somebody's field of fire, get them."

The wait for Chuck to localize the enemy frequency was less than ten minutes, then they used the station's dispatch radio to blare country music on it at max volume. A few moments later, the officer with the grenade launcher popped four rounds off out the back window in rapid succession. Then shrugged and used the last two to widen the smoke blockade.

Sarah wiggled her toes in her rubber rain boots and snugged the uzi in tight, and ducked out the back door into a roll. The first break from cover was always the most dangerous, in a close range battle. Against a sniper, it was a couple seconds after, since the bullet would have to travel hundreds of yards. If it was over 400 yards, and you could somehow spot the muzzle flash at that distance (usually not the case), there was enough time while the bullet was in the air, if you had good reflexes, to literally dodge it. At 50 yards, there was absolutely no chance of doing so, human reaction time was too slow. But an uzi with a giant can-suppressor wasn't going to be particularly accurate at that distance, at least not on full auto.

Sarah came out of her roll and stopped, squinting through the haze of tear gas and ignoring the sting in her shoulder from rolling on gravel. She darted forward three paces, then two straight right, then charged forward into the thickest of the tear gas at a sprint. They hadn't heard the chopper coming, which meant they'd left it at least a half mile away and came in either on foot or stole a vehicle. The nevada desert stretched all around them, cut by the Interstate off to the southwest, and the small town of Logandale beyond that.

She stopped knelt and squeezed her eyes shut and tore her gas mask off. She couldn't hear with it on. With the mask off, she held her breath and could hear the gas hissing out of the containers. Gravel was tricky terrain. Any movement would give her away unless she moved extremely slowly. But her ears were good, and she was only- yes. A cough, and a crunch of gravel. He was hiding behind the front of the RV. It was barely audible at twenty yards, but he'd given himself away. She'd chosen her steps carefully, spending time waiting on Chuck to lock in on the frequency, with a measuring tape to be sure of her tread and length of stride in the rain-boots. She was exactly halfway between the front and back of the RV, making the points of a triangle. To minimize her own sound-footprint, she bent forward and walked on all fours slowly, still with her eyes closed. She could barely hear the crunch of gravel under her feet. The guy had to have his own gas mask, which he'd just put on so he wouldn't give himself away with more coughing. Which meant his hearing was obstructed now. Sarah shrugged her own gas mask down and pushed up fully to her feet, scanning the front of the RV as she went forward. Her eyes were watering from the gas she'd trapped inside her gas mask, but it wasn't any worse than back in her CIA training.

She was still careful not to stomp her feet, but she wouldn't be able to hear the bad guy's steps on the gravel with the mask down, unless he went sprinting. Sarah crept around the back of the Winnebago and pressed her back to the rear end. She tugged the mask up again and squinted her eyes shut, listening again and holding her breath so she didn't inhale any gas. Nothing again.

Sarah spun and grabbed the rear ladder, hauling herself up hand over hand by feel, then laying down on the roof. She crawled slowly along the top of the RV, then she slipped her purse off over her head. Swung it over her head and flung it toward across toward back of the RV between the RV itself and the back of the police station.. Satisfyingly loud crunch on the gravel. She'd weighted it down for this purpose before she left the patrol station.

Then she waited. Sure enough, he'd heard it. The guy was probably going back and forth like she was, protecting his eyesight with the mask and listening periodically. It had been a gamble that he'd hear it. Her backup plan had been simply to low-crawl up the roof until she could peep down and shoot him through the top of his head.

But this way she might be able to get a prisoner to interrogate. Sarah put her mask back into place and put one eye over the edge of the roof. Nothing. She loosened the mask again and listened. Crunch crunch, very faint. Other side of the RV. Going around the front, which was still obscured from sight of her backup in the patrol station. Mask back down.

Sarah rolled over to the other side of the RV and peered over. Bingo. She sidled along until she was behind him, and then had to debate with herself. Quick burst from the Uzi would be the safest course of action. Interrogating was all well and fine, but not if it got her shot trying something fancy.

She grimaced. Might complicate things with the cops if they got curious and the bullet holes were in the back. Sarah ejected the magazine from the Uzi and flipped the selector to single shot. It wouldn't matter, really, with just the one round in the chamber. She steadied the submachinegun against the edge of the RV's roof. The black-tactical gear-glad gunman was moving very slowly, just like she would have been, trying in vain to sneak on gravel. Not so vain, really, with the masks involved. She saw him pull up the mask and listen again. Sarah dropped the magazine left handed over the edge. It crunched into the gravel, and the man spun. Sarah had her hand back under the suppressor steadying the weapon, and squeezed gently. The report of her gun wasn't silent. Not like in the movies. It sounded more like somebody dropping a paperback down on a table none-too-carefully.

The gunman crumpled, struck in the throat, bullet cutting his spine.

Sarah slid along the roof of the RV and over to the ladder, shinnied down it and went over and retrieved the dead man's Uzi, and her dropped magazine. She stuck it back into the grip of her Uzi and slung it over her shoulder.

With a grin, she went over and knocked on the back door. Chuck opened it, his gas mask up on top of his head. The patrol station must have cleared out by now. The clock in her head kept on ticking. How much longer before the backup team in LA showed up.

Sarah pushed in past him, and handed over the captured Uzi to one of the patrol officers.

"You killed him?"

"I'm not well known for giving out backrubs to people who try to kill me."

Chuck winced, and she shrugged. He should know that much about her. "So, where's the sniper? Any ideas?"

"A few. Our best bet is just to get in the RV and drive cross country. There any roads off to the north we can double back around on?"

"No. Just desert to the north."

"Figures," Sarah grimaced. "You got any hunting rifles in here?"

"Back of my patrol car, in the trunk. We all do."

"More tear gas as a smoke screen?"

"Bad idea, he's expecting it now. But if he figures out I took down his last buddy, he might pack up and leave. If he doesn't have backup on the way," Sarah frowned. "Okay. I guess maybe we better talk to him."

"What?"

"We know the frequency he's using."

The damn caterwauling over the guard frequency finally died away, and he picked up the earpiece from where he'd set it on his shoulder, put it back in his ear. "Highway patrol calling sniper."

Shit.

"Your friends are all dead. I'd suggest you skedadle now, before we have to hunt you down. We've got through to backup now. They're on their way."

"Bullshit," the sniper said, then cursed himself for breaking radio silence. His tactical position was all screwed to hell. He should have kept his mouth shut.

"Our guests had a sat-phone. You didn't bring a jammer for that, did you?"

Shit. Intel was off. He put his eye back to the scope, watching the front of the highway patrol station. The tear-gas smoke was mostly dissipated, though there was some still pluming up from the rear. Greg must be dead. That's the only reason they'd be calling on the radio. How they'd figured out his pinhole frequency he had no idea. He wasn't tech-savvy enough. Boss should have sprung for encrypted radios like the army used.

Movement drew his eye. The hulking RV backing up around the back side of the patrol station. He shifted aim and clicked the magnification on his scope up. He didn't fire right away. How stupid were they. As soon as the driver exposed himself, they'd be down their biggest asset. If they'd just driven off to the north he'd be putting rounds into the back of the thing blind. He could take down the rear tires, and maybe they'd get bogged down. It'd be no picnic for the RV's engine. But odds were they could get far enough to put a hill or something between his perch and them, and double back to the interstate. It only _looked_ flat around here.

The RV stopped, with the cab still hidden behind the building. What the hell was that about?

The only answer was a bullet that punched him in the left shoulder, driving down into his chest and shattering his ribs, glanced off and blasted out at a shallow angle and tore out his left side just above his nipple. He gasped and the scope went wild. He wasted another second in disbelief and then rolled away to his right. Or at least tried to; the bullet had done more damage than he thought. He was still breathing, but knew that wasn't likely to last long. Another bullet kicked up a plume of dust where he'd just been. He kept rolling, trying to avoid more follow up rounds. He had no idea who was shooting at him or from where. He was flat on his back when the third bullet cracked into the top of his cranium and he knew no more.

Sarah put the fourth and fifth rounds from her borrowed rifle through the big pack that was obviously the portable jammer, and then backed out from under the patrol car she'd used for shooting and called back to the patrol officers. "Clear. Shooter's down." She left the bolt action rifle leaning against the patrol car and went around the side of the building to let Chuck know.

Chuck spotted her when she walked around the corner of the building, and he hopped down out of the RV and bounded over to her, scooping her into a bear hug and squeezing her tight. Then he pulled away and kissed her hard, briefly, before pushing her out to arms length and inspecting her critically.

Sarah shook her head ruefully. "I'm fine, Chuck. You distracted him perfectly. Even if he'd spotted me grabbing the gun, he probably wouldn't have had time to take the shot. You know I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, I do. Doesn't mean I can't worry about you, does it? I was scared."

"Didn't we do this kind of thing all the time?"

"No. Decidedly not. Snipers seldom entered into it. Okay. Like twice, I think. And I really freaked out both times."

"It wasn't a difficult shot. Not even two hundred yards. If I'd been setting up on a place like this. I'd have been much further out. He was all in black, in a desert. It's almost like he was asking for it."

Chuck's eyes widened. "Was he? Could they have sent a decoy team?"

"Nobody's gonna throw away bodies like that. Unless, no you're being paranoid now."

"I learned from the best," Chuck said.

Sarah patted his arm and struggled out of the hug. "But they might have a second team on the way. We should get moving before they show up."

"You think you get to shoot a bunch of guys and then just drive off into the sunset?" one of the officers said, coming out the rear of the patrol station.

"It's not even noon yet," Chuck complained. "What sunset?"

"You've got to stay here and testify at the inquest," the man said.

"Of what?"

"Of- what do you mean?"

"You were attacked by random gunmen, and fended them off with smarts and pure nerve," Sarah said. "We were cowering in the holding cells the whole time."

"But-"

"The phones should be working now. Call General Beckman, she'll tell you the same thing. And be quick about it," Sarah went on, "Get some backup here as fast as you can too. If they know they're up against large numbers of armed police, they'll try a more subtle approach."

"But-"

"Get Beckman on the phone."

"You want to talk to her?"

"Not really. Only if she asks."

Beckman did ask, and Chuck and Sarah put their heads together with a landline, squeezing in close so they could both hear. "We'll try and figure out who these people after you are. In the meantime, you should go back to LA, where we have the people in place to protect you."

"Ma'am," Sarah said. "We don't work for you anymore. We'll figure something out."

"Chuck, talk some sense into her."

"Um. I'll get back to you on that. I kind of want to hear her reasoning. If you get any useful intel you can share, email it to my Carmichael Industries secure account."

"Don't try and track us. We're going dark," Sarah said.

One of the Highway Patrolmen frowned and scratched his head a minute later. "I thought there were five guys with Uzis."

"Yeah, that sounds about right. Why?"

"We only got four accounted for."

"Write it up as five. I know where it went," he said, holding up a post-it note. In a feminine hand was written:

_IOU, one Uzi submachinegun_

_1 box 9mm JHP (50 rds)_

A/N: So, like I warned. Plots! Thanks everybody for the reviews. Please keep them coming.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks to everyone for the reviews and kind words. Also thanks to Aerox for acting as beta reader.

V: Sarah vs Cold Pizza and Empire

Chuck let Sarah drive. "So why exactly are we going dark?" he said.

"Think it through. You're smart. Who could have tipped them off that we were buying an RV?"

"Well we didn't exactly keep it a secret. And the casino knew my name. Somebody on security could have... no, they wouldn't send a hit squad over 25 grand. Okay, back to the Winnie as the source of our problems, what are you thinking?"

"We told Ellie and Morgan."

"You can't think one of them-"

"Of course not. Not knowingly at least. So either _their _phones are tapped, or ours are. Or somebody's apartment is bugged."

"Well my apartment used to have a lot of bugs."  
"Yeah," Sarah said. She lifted two fingers from each hand free of the wheel to make air quotes. "It 'used' to."

"Oh, crap," Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes widened and he stared at her. "You don't think they... watched us..."

Sarah nearly swerved off the road. "Um... no I don't," Sarah fought down a blush of her own. She certainly hoped not. "Phone taps are easier. Much more likely."

Chuck sighed in relief, but shook his head. "I thought we were done with this..."

Sarah grinned in spite of it all. "I'm kind of glad we're not. I mean, not the possible sex tape angle."

"I figured."

"I know before I lost my memories, we were moving out of the spy life, but I kind of thrive on intrigue," Sarah said. "I think I'd miss it, a little."

Chuck frowned, craned his neck out the passenger window when Sarah went straight past the freeway. "We're not getting on the 15?"

"Nope," Sarah said. "They'll expect that. I-15, North or South, they'll be looking for this boat. We need to hunker down for a while, then maybe think about making a change. Maybe take some back roads instead of Interstates up to Wyoming. Maybe even ditch the RV altogether. Depends on how fast Beckman gets back to us."

"We're still heading to Lander?" Chuck said.

"Yeah. Of course. And then we pick another destination."

"What about... you know... guys with guns?"

"Please, these guys are amateurs," Sarah said. "Perfect."

"What?"

"RV park."

"How does that help? They'll have a description of the winnebago."

"There's like three identical to ours right there on the way in. And anyway, we should be safe for at least a day before they think to start doubling back," Sarah said. "We just need to make sure we don't leave a credit card trail and keep our phones turned off so they can't track our GPS. Use your gambling winnings, pay for a couple weeks. If Beckman doesn't give us the all clear we'll ditch the RV. Hell, maybe we can talk somebody here into a straight trade."

"And what happens to those people when they get tracked down?"

"We're not responsible for that," Sarah said.  
Chuck winced again.

Sarah sighed. "What? That's twice you've had that look."

"It's nothing. Just not used to hearing you that callous anymore. Like with the guys who attacked us."

"What about it?"  
"You could have taken that guy at the RV alive."

"Probably," she said. "But I..."

"What?"

Sarah pulled in next to the RV park office trailer and turned off the engine. She looked at him and bit her lip and then looked away. "I've got too much to lose now. I couldn't risk something happening in a fistfight with machineguns in play. If I'd had tranq darts, maybe that would have worked. But we neglected to pack any."

Chuck reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "Sorry," he said."I didn't mean it as an accusation."

"I understand that," she said. "We're just very different people. You didn't shoot anybody today, did you?"

"_That_ sort of sounds like an accusation."

Sarah snorted. "I guess it is, a little. I heard the shotgun. Twice"

"I decoyed them," Chuck said. "I hid behind a desk and shot the ceiling. Let the Highway cops earn their pay. Rather not have my fingerprints hanging around on a murder weapon to complicate our lives further."

Sarah pursed her lips sourly. "That's smart... but it's not why, is it? Not completely."

"No. I've never been comfortable with the idea of killing... anybody really. If I can avoid doing it, I will. But there's one caveat to that. They come after my family."

"They came after me," Sarah said. "And you."

"I know. And you put yourself in the line of fire. And it kills me a little inside every time you do. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. But if I let that fear change me... even a little bit," Chuck grimaced. "I almost lost you that way once."

"What?" Sarah's eyebrows went up.

"My red test," Chuck said. "I couldn't do it. Casey was shadowing me. He saved my life, killed the guy. You were on the wrong side to see that I didn't fire. You looked at me with such... horror in your eyes. So it's just weird you asking me why I don't want to kill anybody I don't have to."

"I get that," Sarah said. "I'm just trying to feel my way here, Chuck. I didn't mean to start an argument."

"Wow. You think this was an argument? You really don't have a lot of experience in real relationships, do you?"

"Laugh it up, fuzzball," Sarah said.

Chuck grinned. And Sarah wrinkled her nose, unsure why he was smiling at being called a fuzzball. "What?" She demanded.

"I... you seriously don't remember? You just quoted Star Wars."

"No! What's Star Wars?"

Chuck shook his head, squinted at her, searching for any trace of deception. "I don't know why I put up with you," he said at last.

Sarah looked stricken for a moment, until she realized he was being sarcastic. She arched an eyebrow.

"You're not messing with me? Star Wars! Lightsabers, jedi, space battles?"

"Like Star Trek?"

Chuck groaned. "No!" he said. "Not that Star Trek is necessarily bad. I'm like Switzerland in the Wars/Trek feud."

"That's a thing?"

"Yes. But I'm well out of it," Chuck said. "Morgan can go a little nuts on the subject. Metal-bikini Leia is near and dear to his heart."

Sarah blinked. "Oh! Is that what that was in my closet back in LA?"

Chuck blushed. "Yeah," he said. "It was your Halloween costume, the first year I knew you. Morgan's not the only one with a metal-bikini problem."

"Huh. Now I wish I'd brought it along. Do you have the movies on Blu-Ray? I guess I'm a little nerd-curious."

Chuck laughed. "Nerd-curious? Is that like bi-curious?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Go pay. Maybe you'll find out."

Once they were situated in the RV park, Sarah and Chuck headed on foot to a nearby parking lot, where a couple of beat up cars for sale were lined up. It wasn't a dealership by any stretch of the imagination, just a spot in a small town where apparently everyone knew to go if you wanted to sell a car. Luckily, Sarah had spotted it as they drove into town. Her first instinct was to jimmy the lock or just steal the license plates, but either of those options would open them up to actual valid charges of theft, and they couldn't afford the attention. Instead, Sarah brought along a couple grand in cash, and they trudged another block or so to a payphone to call up the number written in soap on the windshield.

Chuck was a better haggler than Sarah would have expected, but they still ran into a problem. The seller was stubborn that their old 1978 Gremlin was in fact a 'classic' car. When the haggling stalled out at around 1700 dollars, Sarah finally stepped in and agreed to the seller's price just to get them moving again. Chuck had managed to argue the seller down from five thousand. Though why exactly he'd bothered, given their current cash-rich state, _she_ didn't bother to inquire.

Soon enough, they were driving off, the proud new owners of what had been charitably called, nearly forty years ago, a piece of shit. The former owner threw in a grey vinyl dust cover, because when you were driving a Gremlin you at least wanted the paintjob to stand out. Sarah rolled her eyes.

But she was eventually thankful for that cover. It let them swap the plates from the Gremlin onto the RV and park the car behind the RV, covered and unobtrusive. While Chuck was working on the plates, Sarah headed inside.

When Chuck finished and came back in, Sarah was in the bathroom, finally able to disinfect the cuts and scrapes she'd collected rolling around in the gravel back at the highway patrol station. With the door open. In just her lime green panties and a black-and-red sports bra. The mismatch of colors was eye-catching, which Chuck was thankful for, as it distracted from the view. Chuck cleared his throat. "Um. You need an extra hand?"

"Nah, I got it," Sarah said, affixing a band aid to one of the scrapes on her shoulder. She caught his expression in the mirror after a moment and arched an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"What? I didn't say anything."

"I guess I'm just learning to recognize that look."

"What look?"

"The 'want to jump my bones look,'" Sarah explained.

Chuck blushed, but soldiered on. "That's kind of my default expression when you're wearing this little."

Sarah pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, and pressed another band-aid into place. "I don't know whether to be flattered or alarmed," she said.

"Go with flattered. If you don't want me ogling you, wear more clothes."

Sarah smiled at him in the mirror. "I didn't say I minded being ogled. But, you're probably right, I'm getting a little chilly. You get the movie set up?"

"You were serious about that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You kind of only watched them to appease me the first time around."

"I'll do better this time."

Chuck shook his head. "You are not competing with yourself," he bonked the top of her head gently with a knuckle. "Get that through your melon, okay?"

Sarah leaned into him and Chuck kissed the top of her head where he'd bonked her. "Okay," she said.

Sarah seemed to enjoy Star Wars, though she also seemed a little pre-occupied with when the metal bikini would make an appearance. Chuck finally broke down and told her not until the third movie and Sarah settled down to watch. She was biting her nails until Han and Chewie came in to save Luke's bacon at the end. Her arms shot up and she let out a 'whoo-hoo!' when the Death Star exploded.

She fell asleep with a grin on her face halfway through Empire Strikes back, after Han and Leia kissed. Chuck had, to be perfectly honest with himself, done the same a couple of times. Still, instead of waking her for the jedi training section, he paused the Blu-Ray and snuck out from under where she'd been curled up leaning on him, tucked her in with one of the small blankets that had come with the RV, and set up his laptop.

He'd taken pictures of most of the gunmen earlier that day, and now uploaded them to his laptop, quickly so as to keep his phone powered on for the smallest amount of time possible. Then he went about backdooring his way into the FBI database. NSA and CIA were tougher nuts to crack, despite his greater familiarity with their systems. Chuck was careful to route his signal through every country with servers he could access, muddying his trail enough that he felt confident leaving the AFIS search on the gunmen running.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Beckman to tell them who it had been who'd tried to kill them. He just wasn't sure that it hadn't been a plausibly-deniable test by someone _else_ in the NSA or CIA to determine if he still had an Intersect. Beckman might not have access to the file if that were the case. He figured if they weren't in the FBI criminal database, the chances it was government sanctioned (and outside Beckman's control), would go up drastically.

"Why do you have FBI database access?" Sarah demanded, leaning over his shoulder.

Chuck jumped in his chair at the built-in table, and gasped in shock for a moment. "God! Warn a guy! You have a nice nap, Mrs. Droolington?"

"Mrs. WHAT?" Sarah said, then poked him hard in the back. "And don't try to change the subject. Database. Explain."

"You drooled all over me, that's what, I've still got a spot on my shirt to prove it," Sarah glowered at him and Chuck sighed. "Worth a shot. I hacked in," he said, as if that was something he did every day.

"What happened to going dark, huh?"

"I'm not sure what you mean. They're not going to be able to trace me. I'm bouncing my signal so many times, it has a full five seconds latency."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, expression blank otherwise.

"Electrical signals like internet traffic move at about the speed of light. I'm bouncing the signal all the way around the world roughly thirty times, and laying false trails at every node. It'll take them two weeks to track us down. At least. Once they notice us. Which I'll know about before it even happens thanks to the countermeasures suite I'm running. And I've done this to the FBI before. For weeks, and they never found me. Like when I was running my search for my dad. Of course that was years ago, and I've upped my game since then."

Sarah's raised eyebrow stayed up, but her expression took on a new dimension. She was impressed. Chuck shrugged his shoulders self-consciously and blushed. "This is why we were thinking about going cyber-security with Carmichael Industries. I'm kind of great at it."

"I can see that," Sarah said. "So, that explains why you think it's safe to do it. Doesn't explain why you'd do it in the first place."

"Ah," Chuck said. "Right. I got pics of the guys who came after us. I'm hoping they've got records in the FBI database. Cause if they don't..."

Sarah grimaced. "Then they work for the government? Hard to argue against you. Still, I'm doubtful they were government. They were pretty damn poorly equipped for that. And it's pretty unlikely for them to be freelancers and not have an FBI file. Not all six of them. But if they work for the government, our whole 'going dark' plan was useless. They could have just followed the RV via satellite from LA. They wouldn't have needed the 'reported stolen' gambit."

"I hadn't thought of that," Chuck admitted. "Still, I wanted to be sure."

"You don't trust Beckman?"

"Well she did spend a couple of years trying to make sure I never got laid, but yeah, actually," Chuck said. "I do trust her." He outlined his thoughts and Sarah pondered them for a moment. That was all.

"Highly unlikely," she said. It wasn't dismissive, but she was certain. "Level of proficiency isn't there for a black bag team the DNI can't get intel on," Sarah said. She let loose a huge yawn. "Ugh," she said. "I need a nap."

Chuck frowned, but let it go. It was only mid-afternoon. "I ordered pizza," Chuck said. "If you want-"

"Come wake me up when it gets here. We'll start the movie back up?"

"Sounds like a plan."

It was barely a minute later, when Chuck's Carmichael industries email alert chirped. Beckman had gotten back to them with the identities of their attackers. Low rent mercenaries. Former army, who'd gone into business for themselves, first trying to set up their own private military company, but quickly wearing out their welcome and any Pentagon contracts they'd managed to scare up. Chuck's FBI database search beeped while he was going through the information Beckman sent, and it was nearly identical. Beckman's intel had more data, specifically culled from their army records, and showed a closed file court-martial which had no listed verdict. Chuck frowned. A new mystery. Though at least, judging from what his own research and Beckman's had turned up, they didn't need to stay quite so hypervigilant on the security front.

Chuck got up and started heading for the bedroom to tell Sarah the good news, when someone pounded on the door.  
"Pizza delivery!"

Chuck stood frozen, then shrugged and went to pay. The delivery boy's eyes widened when Chuck passed him a fifty and told him to keep the change, but it was the smallest bill they had at present, that would actually cover the bill.

He put the pizza on the low coffee table between the pair of recliners and pulled a slice out of the top box. "Sarah, pizza's here," he called. She didn't reply, though the door was open. She should be able to hear him. Chuck looked down at the slice in his hands and grimaced, pried the box open and returned it.

He started over to the bedroom door and stopped, jaw dropping open.

Sarah appeared in the doorway fingers first, with those little finger-sized cymbals. Chuck knew what was coming as she slowly sensuously danced her way out of the bedroom, but he still swallowed nervously.

"Eep," Chuck said. Sarah grinned. "Where did you find that?"

"This old thing?" Sarah said, hips undulating and arms seeming to float on an invisible breeze. She gave her torso a shake and popped her hips out. "You like?"

"Yeah," Chuck said, wheezing. He cleared his throat. "Uh. What's the occasion?"

Her grin returned. "I was unpacking and, I remembered," she said, "how you wouldn't elope with me."

Chuck groaned. "So your plan is to torture me?"

Sarah looked surprised for a moment. She didn't stop dancing, slowly gyrating her hips and wiggling around in a slow circle. "Oh, no, of course not. This is a thank you. I remembered how you insisted on a big wedding. I needed it, but didn't really realize it."

"So you remembered our wedding too?"

Sarah shook her ass at him and cocked her head over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. Chuck groaned again, and Sarah's hips shook faster for a few moments, then she completed the turn to face him fully again. "Yeah, some of it. Wedding night's still missing, but... I remember I never got to make good on my seduction plans with this outfit. Some call came in?"

"Yeah," Chuck said absently, her belly was doing the wildest thing. Then she shook her torso for a moment again. Chuck swallowed and pulled his gaze from her luscious body, barely concealed behind the red sequinned belly-dancer outfit, up to her face. Her face was wearing a sensual teasing grin, and she stalked toward him.

"Well, just think of this as me following through."

Out of nothing more than a desire to watch her walking toward him like that for as long as possible, Chuck backed up a step and fell backward into the recliner. Sarah pursued, still bellydancing.

She leaned over and cupped his cheeks with both hands and kissed him soundly, wet and deep and soulfully. Chuck groaned again and Sarah pulled back to smirk down at him. Chuck brought his own hands up to hers, and she turned, guiding his hands to her hips and backed up even closer. "Oh, lord," Chuck groaned, the depths of her evil plan coming into focus at last a moment before she put it into action. Sarah left his hands on her hips and planted her own hands on either armrest of his recliner, poking her rump out at him and waggling it insistently for a moment. Then she slowed and bobbed her hips down to drag her silk-clad bottom across his crotch for the briefest of instants. Sarah popped her ass back, right in his face, and he could tell through the thin silk over her glutes that she wasn't wearing anything under the skirt.

She met his eyes over her shoulder and bit her lip, dropping down to nearly sit in his lap, grinding her ass all over him, and going into the little belly-dancer shimmy for a few seconds in between long slow grinds. Chuck whimpered under the onslaught.

"Oh god, Sarah. I don't think I can take much more of that..."

She laughed. "I can tell," Sarah said, and spun, dropping to her knees and attacking his fly. Chuck's eyes widened comically. She tugged his pants down around his knees roughly and immediately wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock, plunging down onto him. Her fingers cupped his balls and circled his shaft below where her mouth sucked hard at him. He bit his lip, trying to stop the inevitable. "God, Sarah, that's so good. Oh, shit, cut that out or I'm gonna..."

He finally looked down at her, and she raised her eyebrows expectantly, jerking him off roughly in time to her pumping mouth. She paused her bobbing head, pulled back until her lips sucked just around the tip of him. Sarah pumped her fist furiously, making an impatient noise in her throat. Chuck groaned and shuddered out his climax. Sarah's cheeks hollowed and she sucked harder, her hand slowing to draw every drop out of him.

When the last tension finally drained out of Chuck, Sarah finally pulled away, grinning coquettishly up at him for a moment and giving her hips a shimmy as she swallowed.

Chuck gasped air back into his lungs, and met Sarah's smirk with one of his own. "Of course you know, this means war," Chuck said. Sarah just bit her lip, daring him to do his worst without words.

Chuck slid down to his knees and looped an arm around her waist, pressed a sucking kiss to the side of her neck and turned to plant her in the same position on the recliner he'd just vacated. He pushed her skirt up and wriggled his hand between the wisps of silk. Chuck blew a raspberry, hard into her belly button, and Sarah yelped, writhing and laughing and trying to escape. He pressed a hand into her chest between her breasts to keep her in place and his questing fingers finally found her bare wet folds under the red silk. He rubbed his thumb against her clit roughly and drove his middle and index finger into her opening. Sarah went taut as a bowstring, thrusting her hips up into his hand hard, and then collapsed into the recliner bonelessly, mouth open in an 'o' of surprise and pleasure, panting for breath. Chuck discovered a long slit up the side of her skirt and he tossed the top layer of silk aside to bare her core and dipped his head to capture her clit under his lips.

Sarah moaned a barely intelligible, "Oh, Chuck me..." as he thrust his fingers hard in and out of her. Chuck shifted position, to gain leverage with his engaged hand, sliding his free hand up and digging it under her belly-dancer top to fondle her breasts. Sarah moaned and writhed and wriggled. Finally she bit her lip and began popping her hips in a vulgar imitation of her previous dance. Chuck grinned and moved up to kiss the side of her neck. Sarah moaned again and he trailed kisses across her cheek to capture her mouth and muffle the sounds. Most of the sounds; the wet, slick sound of him finger-fucking her, filled the living area of the winnebago. He kept it up for long minutes until she whimpered into his mouth and thrust her hips up, spine arching as she convulsed wildly around his fingers in a brain-shivering orgasm. He slowed his thrusting fingers but didn't stop, moving back down between her legs to suck and lick at her already slick center for a brief time, then sped back up again. Sarah bit off a scream of pleasure and clamped a hand over her mouth as he pushed her back over the edge. Chuck curled his fingers inside her and stroked slowly, drawing it out for her. At long last, he slowed to a full stop and kissed her inner thigh tenderly. Sarah's entire body quivered for a moment at the touch, and she sighed in relief that he was done with her. "Oh, God..." she panted.

"God, this outfit..." Chuck growled as he stood. He found her wrist and guided her hand down to his returned erection. Her foggy eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh, fuck..." she moaned.

"That's the idea," Chuck laughed.

"Okay, but you gotta carry me to the bed, I can't walk," Sarah said.

Chuck hoisted her up into a fireman's carry and she laughed. "This isn't what I had in mind!" she managed to get out in between laughing.

"This is faster." He rushed awkwardly back toward the bedroom with his pants around his ankles and tossed her down on the bed. His aim was lacking, and her legs spilled off the edge of the bed. Sarah started to stand, though her legs were still a little wobbly. Chuck was there behind her and bent to press a kiss into the small of her back.

"Can't walk, huh, lazy?" Chuck said. Sarah glared at him over her shoulder and waggled her hips at him. Chuck groaned and plucked up the hem of her skirt, tossed it over her back and gave her ass a playful smack. Sarah's eyes went wide. It wasn't very hard, but it was completely unexpected. She froze for a moment, and Chuck thrust forward, the tip plowing into her folds and ramming into her to the hilt. Sarah clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the undignified noise she made, half yelp of surprise, half moan of pleasure.

Chuck fought his way free of the confining pants around his ankles and gripped Sarah firmly by the hips, bunching up the hip-hugger waistband of her belly-dancer costume around her waist. Sarah thrust back at him, flesh smacking together, and her moans only just muffled by the hand she had clamped over her mouth. So soon after the double-barreled orgasm from Chuck's fingers, Sarah was riding the edge already. She felt so kinky, still wearing her top. When Chuck grabbed the back of it for leverage she nearly came right then and there.

Chuck's thrusts kept pushing her forward, and her legs weren't quite up to the task. She felt her knees weakening and climbed up more fully onto the bed. The movement pulled him out of her, and Chuck growled and followed her up onto the bed, pinning her down and taking her from behind a second time. Sarah grabbed the coverlet with the hand that wasn't busy holding in her moans.

Chuck's thrusts came harder, and faster, pushing her up the bed, and tugging the covers askew. She wasn't lined up properly on the bed, and for a moment, she was afraid she'd topple right off the edge of the corner they'd cut across the mattress. She pushed back, trying to regain lost ground, and started wiggling her booty at him, like she was belly-dancing again. Chuck froze in mid-thrust, groaning a, "You've got to be fucking kidding me," before he fell atop her, thrusts coming frantic and furious, pushing her down flat across the mattress. She could feel her ass jiggle in response to his thrusts. He pressed his forehead into her shoulder-blade, and a tiny detached part of her bit her lip, pleased that he'd had the presence of mind not to do that on the shoulder she'd scraped in the parking lot earlier. And then all thought fled when she felt the sudden heat of him, filling her. Before the second pulse of his climax into her, Sarah tipped over the edge after him, clenching uncontrollably and shuddering into a full-body orgasm. Chuck slowed and finally stopped, rolling just enough onto his side so he wasn't crushing her, without pulling out. They lay together catching their breath in the afterglow, and Sarah felt herself drifting, drifting off to blissful sleep, until her eyes ran across a shape on the floor, something she hadn't seen since college. Almost like a makeup compact, but larger, and slightly angular at the top. On the floor. Where it had fallen out of the bag she'd taken from the apartment closet to pack. It wasn't the same bag she'd taken with her on her hunt for Quinn. It was the bag she'd instinctively shied away from. Sarah Bartowski's bag. Her eyes shot wide open, suddenly laser focused.

Her arm darted out and seized the offending plastic case. Sarah fought her way out from under his weight, elbowing to get him moving faster.

"What the _fuck_ are these?" she hissed, waving the case in his face. Chuck had to catch her wrist so that he could see what she was talking about.

Chuck's brows furrowed. "Your birth control pills, why? What's wrong?"

"How long have I been on the pill?"

"What? Oh. Oh, crap."

"I remember being on a shot once every three months, since I started at CIA. But... oh, Christ that was five years ago. I never thought! How long have I been on the pill?"

Chuck shook his head slowly. "Oh, crap. Since we got married, in case we decided to start trying." She looked at him uncomprehendingly so he tried again. "Trying. As in, you know. To have kids. You could go off the pills faster than the shots, and we wouldn't have to resort to condoms if we changed our minds and wanted to wait again."

Sarah's face had gone crimson when he mentioned trying to have kids and she swallowed nervously, fingering the case open. It was from two months ago, and not even half of the pills had been taken. She felt a sudden lump in her throat. "_Were_ we... trying?" Would he even tell her if they had been? Would Quinn have dosed her with a morning after pill, just to be safe? She wanted to throw up. Would Chuck try to shield her from that pain? It was ridiculous, feverish speculation down a path too painful to admit existed. Why the hell wouldn't Chuck answer the goddamn question? Only a second or two had passed, she was just spiraling.

"No," Chuck said. "Not yet. We had a scare a while ago. But we weren't, and decided not to try until we'd made the switch to a less dangerous line of work. Sarah, you're hyperventilating."

"No I'm not!"

Chuck rooted around for, and found his boxers, tugged them on, and ducked into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a small paper bag.

"I. Am. Not. Hyper- hyperventilating," Sarah protested when he held the bag out to her. She realized she'd had to take a breath before every word. Hadn't even been able to finish 'hyperventilating' the first time, and glared, took the bag from him and breathed into it. It helped. Jesus. She wasn't ready to be a mother. In five years maybe-shit! It _was_ five years later. Sarah shook her head. She wasn't twenty-seven. She was thirty-two. And dammit, what that bastard Quinn stole from her. It all hit her at once. Her memories didn't come rushing back, but the reality that they hadn't just vanished did. With crushing force. The bone-deep knowledge that someone had actively, purposefully _stolen _them from her. Tried to steal her love for Chuck. At least in that, they'd failed. Her rage at Quinn had masked the pain of it. The confusing feeling of needing this man in her life that she hardly knew had dulled it. Then coming back, having Chuck there, so eagerly jumping into her life, trusting her so unconditionally, had insulated her from the horror and the violation. 5 goddamn _years. _Gone, as if they'd never been. The memories she'd already recovered weren't salve enough. Not close.

She tried to breathe deep, slow her breathing, relax.

Chuck rubbed her back gently. "You gonna be okay?"

She could feel the tears coming, and fought them. She couldn't dump this on him. What the hell would he think of her, two minutes ago they were in cooldown from amazingly hot sex, and now. No, she was not going to cry. She _wasn't_!

She shook her head and turned into his arms, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him. The sobs came, then. There was no fighting them any longer. Chuck stroked her hair and whispered soothingly to her until she was cried out.

She pushed back to arms length, to apologize for crying all over him, but his cheeks were as tearstained as hers, though she hadn't felt him sobbing. He smiled that disarming smile at her and smudged the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. She tugged the end of her skirt up and wiped his tears away in turn. "That should have happened a while ago," he said simply, without judgment. Tears threatened again.

"Yeah," she said, voice rough and throaty. "I guess so."

Chuck hugged her to his chest again and she rested her head on his shoulder, rocking in silence for a long time. Finally Chuck spoke up. "So, what do you want to do first? Eat cold pizza and watch Empire Strikes Back, or go find a home pregnancy test?"

Sarah somehow laughed for a moment, and nuzzled up against him. "Pizza," she said decisively.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Really appreciate all the reviews. Please keep them coming! Aerox is great for getting this chapter beta'd quickly.

I think writing the smutty scenes is slowing down this story. It was something of a writing experiment that has mostly run its course at this point. If it feels organic as the story continues, there will still be those kinds of scenes, but I'm not going to be as worried about there being at least one per chapter. I'll state in the A/N of future chapters whether there is or not. And I might edit together a T-rated version of this story at some point, but that seems like quite an undertaking.

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Sarah vs the Intervention

Chuck was slow to wake up. The day before had been strenuous. Sarah had put him through the wringer in more ways than one. He idly started cataloging all the craziness, yesterday had brought.

Nearly caught in the act of one of the craziest positions he'd never imagined? Check.

Quasi arrested, and then ambushed by mercenaries and nearly shot? Check.

Ambushed again later by Sarah in belly-dancer costume? Check.

Pregnancy scare? Check.

Emotionally cathartic cry with Sarah? Check.

Tension laden wait for pregnancy test results? Check.

Awkward moment where their relative levels of disappointment and relief don't match up? Check.

Watch entire Star Wars original trilogy? At Sarah's insistence? Check.

Couple all that with the first... eventful day of their road trip, and despite getting more than ten hours of dreamless sleep, he hardly had the energy to drag himself out of bed. Finally, the lack of snugly Sarah in bed with him, drew him out from under the covers.

He slid the bedroom door away into its cubby and peeked out. Sarah was at the table in a tank-top and sweats, hair tied back in a loose pony-tail. Fading scabs poked out from under the left strap of her tank top, and Chuck winced in sympathy as he padded up behind her. He kissed her shoulder, carefully avoiding the scrapes, and raised his eyebrow at the contents of the table. He'd expected a crossword puzzle, a newspaper. Maybe a cup of coffee. The coffee was there, but also a gun mat with a disassembled Uzi laying on it, boxes of ammo, spare magazines and gun cleaning supplies. "So. What's all this?"

Sarah merely shrugged. "I went shopping," she said and nudged a pile of bags on the floor by the table with her foot. 'Guns and Guitars Mesquite, NV', most prominent among them. "The Gremlin gets pretty decent gas mileage."

"I'd have helped carry at least, if you'd woken me up."

"You looked so peaceful," Sarah said. "Besides, you were still asleep when I got back, so you obviously needed the rest."

"I can't really argue against that," Chuck said. He had to fight down a yawn. "So, did you buy a guitar or a gun?"

"Just supplies. Spare mags for the Uzi and my 22, carrying case and holsters. A few other things."

Chuck was distracted by something in one of the bags. He stooped and freed it from the plastic bag. His eyebrows went up. 250 Count Bulk Condoms.

"Um... that's a lot of condoms," Chuck said. And kicked himself mentally. That was a dumb thing to say.

Sarah blushed faintly and shrugged. "Just planning ahead. I've only got like, two weeks worth of pills, and if we're still on the run, walking into a doctor's office and trying to get a prescription for birth control pills is a risk."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that," Chuck frowned. "Don't you have a bunch of fake IDs?"

"Yeah, but I don't want them getting put into any computer systems if I can help it. If the people looking for us have a link into DMV records, medical records might be compromised too."

Chuck scratched at the stubble on his chin. "I don't know. Medical records are supposed to be confidential. I would assume they have at least some level of security. DMV records are pretty easy to get access to."

Sarah shrugged again. "Not a big deal, is it?"

"No, not really," Chuck said. "Just... that's a lot of condoms."

Sarah turned and grinned at him. "Is it? Is it really, though?"

Chuck swallowed and tugged at the neck of his t-shirt to loosen it, which sent Sarah into a snort of laughter. He slid into the chair opposite her and waved at the disassembled Uzi. "Anything I can help with?"

Sarah considered. "You know much about guns?"

"I've picked up a few things," Chuck said, and tapped the side of his head to indicate the Intersect.

She leaned forward and turned the mat around on the table so the Uzi lay in front of him. "Be my guest."

"You want to blindfold me?"

Sarah grinned and arched an eyebrow. "Maybe later."

Chuck's ears flushed red and he broke eye contact to concentrate on the task of reassembling the pilfered Uzi. The Uzi's action was relatively ancient, and oft copied, and the Intersect had all the information he needed and then some. His head buzzed briefly as a sequence of images blurred through his vision. Then his hands knew exactly what to do.

In short order, he was holding a fully assembled submachine gun. Sarah tried not to appear impressed. Chuck frowned. "This is a different barrel."

"Yeah, extra half a foot. Should be accurate out to a hundred yards now. Maybe more," Sarah said. She dug in the Guns and Guitars bag. "Plus, I got a foregrip that opens out into a bipod, and a better folding stock, and some optics."

He got up and got himself a cup of coffee before returning to the table. "We going to war with somebody?"

Sarah pursed her lips and set the Uzi accessories on the table. "If we do, I'd prefer to be able to put rounds on target at something above pistol range. It'll never be as good as a full-size rifle for that, but trying to buy firearms while staying off the grid is risky," she said. "Somewhere around the order of fifty times riskier than trying to find birth control pills off the grid."

Chuck could see how that might be true. Sarah stood up from the table and opened up the panelling to retrieve her tiny pistol from its hiding place.

She pulled the automatic from the protective plastic baggie and removed the silencer and magazine, locked back the slide and field stripped it. Chuck was enthralled. It was a very odd design. The barrel seemed to be in the wrong spot.

Sarah prepared her cleaning supplies neatly, almost compulsively, before she disassembled the weapon completely. She peered down the tiny barrel, inspecting the rifling. Chuck flashed, and learned that it was a Smith & Wesson model 2214. "I've always wondered why you like Smith & Wesson so much," Chuck said suddenly.

"Is that a question?" Sarah paused in assembling the cleaning rod for the 22.

Chuck shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.

Sarah pursed her lips in thought. "We saw _Sudden Impact_ at an impressionable age. We who, you say?" She mimed pulling a pistol from a shoulder holster with her hand, finger poking out like a barrel. "Smith, Wesson, and me." In her best Eastwood.

Chuck spewed coffee down his shirt. Sarah lurched forward to shield the gun from stray droplets. "How the hell... how the hell did I not know you were a Dirty Harry fan?"

She merely shrugged again. "You didn't take a very good look at my fake IDs, did you. One of them's Harriet Callahan."

Chuck snorted a laugh, and couldn't help it. "My wife's Dirty Harriet?" He set his coffee down carefully and laughed for a solid minute. Sarah had a concerned expression on her face when he finally had to pant air back into his lungs. "Well. We're definitely having a Dirty Harry marathon at some point, as long as we're trapped inside the Winnebago."

Sarah began cleaning the pistol. As she swabbed out the barrel, she caught Chuck's eyes and her hands' motion changed subtly, her working the cleaning rod somehow managed to be highly suggestive. Sarah arched an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Are you propositioning me?"

"I didn't say a word," Sarah managed with a straight face. The cleaning rod paused, and then resumed at a more vigorous pace. She gave it a little twist and pulled the rod free, inspecting the cotton swatch at the tip, ignoring him completely.

Chuck let out a sigh and tried to ignore her right back. He pushed back from the table, found his laptop and sat down on the sofa. Sarah glanced over her shoulder at him and arched an eyebrow. "You look busy," he said.

Sarah frowned sourly and went back to cleaning her gun.

After the boot-up sequence, he quickly discovered a new email.

"Hey, Beckman got back to us again. She had somebody track the dead guys' financials. Trail took the FBI to an Abigail Smith."

"So... who's Abigail Smith?"

"Sorry, crap. Uh... looks like, um, do you remember Vincent Smith? Faked his death to infiltrate Castle? Got blown up when we rescued my dad? I told you about this."

"Oh, right! Yeah, what about him?"

"He didn't get all the way blown up."

"Not-" Sarah turned to frown at him again. "How do you get 'not all the way' blown up?"

"He lost an arm, and he's got burns over most of his body."

"Oh. Ugh," Sarah said. "He hired them?"

"No," Chuck said. "If he hired them, they probably would have been more effective. He always prided himself on his professionalism. They think it was his kid sister, Abigail. Vincent's not doing so well. He's bedridden and requires an oxygen tank. Beckman's hypothesizing Vincent blabbed about the guy who put him in that position."

"Hypothesized? The Smiths aren't talking?"

"Abigail got away, and Vincent is kind of stubborn."

"Well, they've got people who can be very persuasive."

"I know. But they can't use any... coercive means. Not without killing him, anyway which sort of defeats the purpose. That's Beckman's read of the situation, which I agree with."

"So, that leaves little sis. Is she any good?"

"She's in college," Chuck shrugged. They're tracking down her records, but she's majoring in Computer Science."

"So she's a hacker?"

"Not every CS major is a hacker," Chuck said. Sarah had turned from cleaning her weapons, and he could read her pretty good. "You're worried she can keep tabs on us if we go back on the grid."

Sarah nodded. "Is there any way to make sure she doesn't?"

"There's a lot of ways, actually," Chuck said slowly. "I don't want to bore you with the specifics. But you've got five good aliases. There's ways to keep your picture out of the files. I just have to know where you want to go back on the grid in advance so I can be ready to cover the electronic trail."

Sarah pursed her lips. "We really do fit."

"Whoa. That's a bit of a wild segue."

She shrugged and got up from the table, leaned her hip on the bench seat so she could look at him without craning her neck. "I just mean... that's the kind of thing I'm not good at. The tech stuff."

"You do okay."

"I'm having a moment here," Sarah said. "An epiphany, maybe. A little epiphany, about us working together and how it worked. I know you told me about it a little, but I'm really getting it now."

"Oh," Chuck said. He smiled and went back to his email. "Huh. Ellie's pissed I'm not answering my phone."

Sarah winced and watched him for a moment. "We should celebrate."

Chuck frowned and arched an eyebrow. "We should celebrate my sister being mad at me?"

"Forget about that. Cost of being us," Sarah said dismissively. "We're celebrating not being actively hunted by some kind of international conspiracy."

"We're still being hunted."

"By a nerdy college coed," Sarah said. "I'm not concerned. Meet me in the bedroom in five minutes."

Chuck watched as Sarah bent for something from one of the bags, and arched an eyebrow. It was the box-of-condoms' bag, but she wasn't going for the condoms, but rather a smaller plastic bag, holding... Chuck put his laptop aside and snatched the bag. Sarah turned, a little upset at the effrontery. Chuck's eyebrows went up.

"Um. Okay, I guess we need to talk about this," Chuck brandished the bag, which bore a picture of a leggy blonde woman wearing a nurse outfit that consisted primarily of a red-cross emblazoned bikini top.

Sarah crossed her arms. "About what?"

"Consider this an intervention. I think you have costume addiction."

Sarah rolled her eyes and snorted.

"I'm serious. Look, sit down." He patted the sofa next to him. Sarah eyed the empty cushion, and then finally sat, back stiff. Chuck handed her back the bagged sexy nurse outfit. "I feel like you think I expect things from you in the bedroom, or you're trying to... I don't know, show yourself up. Or you've got a skewed sense of what a healthy sex-life entails."

"Chuck, I've got a whole closet of sexy outfits and costumes. Are you saying I never dressed up in any of them for you?"

He couldn't help but blush. "No. No I am not saying that... But three days in a row is pushing it, I think. It was more of a special occasion kind of thing. Birthdays, Valentine's Day..."

"That's what the one with wings was about!"

Chuck laughed. "Yeah. I really want to tell you that story but..."

"I know," she said. "Maybe I'll remember that one soon."

Chuck patted her knee. The stiff back seemed to lessen, but Sarah still had her arms crossed.

"I just want to be absolutely clear on this," Sarah said. "You're actually turning down sex right here. That's what you're doing?"

"Kind of, yeah," Chuck said. He grinned. "Unless you _reaaaally_ want sex right now?"

Sarah shrugged. "I guess I just assumed you would."

"We don't have to have sex _every_ day. I like a good cuddle probably more than the next guy."

"I don't like that phrase."

"Sorry, what phrase?"

"The 'next guy'. There's not gonna be a next guy."

"Okay. I'll watch my phrasing. I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort. Now, you wanted to celebrate. How about champagne and cuddling on the couch with a movie?"

"Or we could get back on the road, if we're not going to have sex."

"Not a fan of the RV park?"

Sarah shrugged. "We're still in danger. And I want to keep moving."

Chuck nodded. "Let me hop in the shower first. I'd ask you to join me, but I don't think we'd fit. I barely fit in that thing."

"What happened to 'not having to have sex every day'?"

"We also don't have to have sex every time we share a shower."

Sarah eyed him flatly.

"Okay, most of the time sure. Being that close to you without any clothes on, is on the irresistible side of tempting, I'll be the first to admit it."

The flat expression lightened and she leaned back on the couch.

"How do you always know the right thing to say?"

"Oh, don't give me too much credit. It's definitely an acquired skill," Chuck said. "You're benefitting from several years of reverse engineering ways, in which I royally pissed you off, into ways to make you swoon."

"Swoon, huh?" she said with a mild glare. Mild for Sarah, so only mildly terrifying.

Chuck grinned. "See what I did there? Figuring you out has always been largely trial and error. But I'm okay with that."

"So did I ever get good at talking about my feelings?"

"No. Your wedding vows were pretty rocking, from my perspective. But look, I'm not trying to change that about you. If we mostly left things unsaid, that's fine. Part of the fun is having to pay very close attention to your body language." He waggled his eyebrows and Sarah blushed and snorted a laugh.

Chuck spent some time with his laptop setting up electronic trails for Sarah's five emergency identities, and muddying up the financial records while he was at it. He had no confidence that the CIA would have paid adequate attention to making sure those identities actually had credit histories and tax records, dating back as far as they should. And he'd been right, though they had current bank balances at least, so he could spread Sarah's retirement money out piecemeal to all five identities. Covering his tracks on the financial side was tricky, as Abigail Smith's failure to hide _her_ tracks had proved. Sarah's eyes started to glaze over when he tried to explain what he was doing. The fact that it actually wasn't technically illegal hadn't reassured her as much as he would have hoped. Nonetheless, Chuck was confident that there was no linkage between Harriet Callahan's money and Chuck Bartowski. Same with the other four.

So, two hours after they got the news from Beckman, they were on the road again, heading north with the Gremlin on a trailer hitch behind the Winnebago. The RV park had had the good grace to give them a partial refund on their month's rent.

Sarah eased up on the road trip games, and picked up a couple of books on tape at the bookstore in Mesquite on their way through. She insisted on stopping before they crossed over into Utah, to check off Arizona on the list.

"I'm sorry? What list."

"States where we've... you know... done it. Boinked. Plowed."

"I think I get it now."

Sarah nodded. "So. California, Nevada... Arizona's next. I don't want to have to loop around and come back."

"Got something against Arizona?"

"Not particularly. Dries out my skin though."

Chuck grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Just means I get to rub you down with moisturizer."

Sarah barked a surprised laugh. "I'll go get the oil."

"What? You bought baby oil?"

"I bought gun oil. It's the same stuff."

"You want me to give you a massage with _gun oil?_"

"Technically it's mineral oil."

Chuck shook his head. "Gun oil is for guns, Sarah."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Make an exception, just this once," she said. "I'll make it worth your while."

After checking Arizona off the list, they parked for the night in a small town just across the border into Utah, and watched the first couple episodes of Firefly before turning in. They laid in bed for a long time, cuddling and talking about little things. Details neither Sarah nor Chuck had ever volunteered. 13 year old Sarah and her first hopeless crush, back when she was Katie O'Connell. Chuck having to save Morgan from his first crush. Chuck disassembling various household appliances to see how they worked. Sarah conning an armored truck driver into thinking he'd run over her bicycle. Chuck's first real date turning into a comedy of errors that ended up with him hiding naked in the bushes from the police had Sarah laughing so hard Chuck was briefly worried she'd give herself a stroke.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh," she said, wiping away tears. "How did you make your escape. I'd think that would have made it into your FBI file if the cops caught you."

Chuck cocked an eyebrow. "You saw my FBI file?"

"When Graham gave me the assignment," she said.

"When did you remember that?" Chuck said, brushing stray hair behind her ear. Sarah pressed her cheek into his hand and shrugged.

"I don't really know," she admitted. "It's been coming back as you talked about your youthful indiscretions."

"I object to your phrasing."

"You're changing the subject. How did you elude the police?"

Chuck sighed. "What can I give you to not have to answer that question?"

Sarah smirked and rooted around under the covers until she found the waistband of his boxers. She tugged the elastic down slightly and slipped her hand down to grasp him gently. "Weeeellll..." Sarah said in a husky voice, squeezing him and tugging slowly. "We still have Utah to check off the list."

Chuck groaned and closed his eyes, which Sarah took as agreement. She scooted forward to kiss him. It was surprisingly, considering what her hand was doing under the covers, a soft, relatively chaste kiss. It only lasted a couple seconds. Sarah broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against his and sped up pumping her hand on his growing erection. He groaned again.

"Sarah, come on. The spirit is willing but the flesh is spongy and bruised."

"The flesh seems pretty willing to me," she said. "That's a quote from something, isn't it?"

"Y-yeah..." Chuck said. His voice nearly cracked.

"Don't tell me. I'll figure it out eventually," she said. Sarah bit her lip for a moment and then kissed the side of his neck while snaking her other hand into his boxers. She sped up the pace of her stroking and worked her way down his chest.

"Oh, god. Let me grab a condom, just to be safe?" Chuck gasped.

"You're not going to need it yet," Sarah pushed him over onto his back and let him go long enough to strip the boxers out of the way.

"Ha, whoa! Oh god," he said. Sarah kissed his belly button and peeked up at him from the shadows under the covers, running her tongue around the tip of him.

"Tell me," she said.

"W-what?"

Sarah took the tip in her mouth and sucked hard for a moment. "Tell. Me. You asked what you could do not to tell me. I flipped it." Sarah curled her tongue around the tip and sucked him into her mouth again. Chuck groaned and surged half upright. Sarah came off him for a moment, startled more than anything, and he grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her up. Sarah gasped as his fingers darted into her pj bottoms.

"I can flip things too," he said, pushing her over onto her back and peeling her pj pants clean off her. Sarah laughed and started to protest, but it trailed off as soon as he bent down between her thighs and went to work.

Sarah's eyes glided closed for a moment. "Oh, you're good at that..." she moaned. "But be.. careful, Chuck. You know I hate to lose." She cut off a moan as he sucked hard at her moist tender flesh. Sarah growled deep in her throat and grabbed his shoulder, flipping him over onto his back and rolling on top of him and spun around. She grabbed him and ran her tongue up the side of him, sucking as she went. Chuck slicked a pair of fingers along her outer folds and ground his thumb into her as he sucked on her clit. She groaned again, and took him fully into her mouth, bobbing her head roughly, taking him deep.

Chuck fought back valiantly, and for several minutes Chuck and Sarah tried to suck, nibble, fondle and finger each other into submission. Inevitably, Sarah won. Chuck groaned and emptied himself into her mouth. Sarah was caught off guard and coughed momentarily, before licking him clean. He didn't stop his own efforts, shifting into high gear without the distraction of Sarah pleasuring him, and he persevered until he'd drawn Sarah into her own climax.

Once she'd cooled down, Chuck climbed up and spooned her. "Okay," she said. "Tell me."

"Darn, I was hoping I'd made you forget."

"Nope," Sarah said smugly, snugging herself back into him more firmly.

Chuck sighed into her neck. "Fine. I stole a pair of trashcan lids to shield my modesty."

Sarah laughed. "Like you've got anything to be modest about."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence. Story isn't over. I cut across to the backside neighbor's yard and a little old lady took pity on me. She gave me a pair of her late husband's pants and drove me home. My life flashed before my eyes on the drive, but she managed to get me back to the house without killing the both of us."

Sarah turned slightly in his arms to look at him. "You're leaving something out."

"She goosed me as I went up the sidewalk."

Sarah laughed. "Can't say I blame her. You do have a pretty pinchable butt."

"You're one to talk," Chuck said, working a hand between them.

Sarah yelped and rubbed her wounded buttock, wriggling away. Chuck pulled her back and kissed her and then they devolved into another fit of giggles.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry it's been so long between chapters. I've got

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VII: Sarah vs Erewhon

"Hey, how about that one," Chuck said. "Diner food's got just the right touch of small-town Americana."

"Blech," Sarah said. "Okay."

Chuck looked at her from the passenger seat as she pulled off the interstate. Here in the middle of nowhere it was just a two-lane blacktop. "That's the weirdest reaction to the idea of food I've ever seen."  
Sarah shrugged. "Just ate at a lot of diners on the road growing up. Some of them can be pretty nasty."

"We can stop someplace else if you want."

"Nah, I'm hungry now," She cut her eyes at him and grinned. "Need to refuel anyway."

"Um..." Chuck said eloquently. Sarah's grin widened and she parked near the interstate along the back of the mostly empty lot, across what could easily have been eight or more spaces if there had been any lines. It still left room for new arrivals though. Chuck unbuckled and started for the door.

"Oh, before I forget," she said. "I did get you something at Guitars and Guns and stuff or whatever it was called. Somehow I got sidetracked yesterday."

"What'cha get me?" Chuck said, bouncing in place.

Sarah laughed at his antics and found the bag. "Nothing too extravagant. Just, after the whole assault on Precinct 13 scenario..."

"I knew you'd seen movies in your life before you joined the CIA!"

Sarah frowned. "What're you talking about? That one just came out a few years ago."

"Oh, no. Oh, _no_. Oh, NO!" Chuck said. "That's the remake! The original is so much better." Sarah groaned. She could sense another movie night in her future. "Hey, but that gives us the excuse for a Carpenter Marathon! Assault on Precinct 13, the Thing, They Live, Escape from New York, Halloween! It'll be awesome!"

"How many movies did this guy make?"

"A lot. Some of them not so great, to be honest. But that list is excellent."

Sarah sighed in resignation. "You're sidetracking me again," she said, digging out the Guns & Guitars bag. "Here." Sarah tossed him a cardboard box.

"It's a flashlight?"

"And a stun-gun," she explained. "Since tranq darts are in short supply."

"Huh," Chuck said. "Seems like this would be fairly expensive."

"Thirty bucks," Sarah said. "I went ahead and got the deluxe version."

The diner food was, despite Sarah's apprehension, passable. True to her word, Sarah loaded up on carbs, mowing through a full two plates heaped with pancakes and syrup. Chuck didn't miss it when she palmed the plastic squeeze bottle of Aunt Jemima into her purse, or the devious grin she shot him when she saw him spot it.

"So, let's get back on the road?" Sarah said.

"Yeah." Chuck gulped down the dregs of his coffee. "Just let me go see a man about a horse first."

"TMI, Chuck," Sarah wrinkled her nose. Chuck leaned across the table and gave the top of her head a kiss before ambling off for the mens room. Sarah watched him go and grinned. She flirted with the idea of going after him and indulging in some public-bathroom sex, but finally dismissed the idle fancy. The chance of getting caught wasn't titillating her in any way, maybe since the only other person in the diner to do said catching was their pixie-ish brunette waitress, and she felt an irrational surge of jealousy. Sarah stepped on the feeling and frowned in thought. There was a story there, just beyond the reach of her fuzzy memories. A bell set into the entry door jangled, announcing more patrons, but Sarah wasn't really paying attention. There was something there, behind that sudden spike of feeling, and she wanted to know what it-her spy reflexes broke off the line of thought. Two men had entered under that bell, in lightweight sport coats and jeans. One of them grinned and nudged the other, and they started in her direction. Sarah spotted the bulge of shoulder holsters almost immediately.

"Well, what brings a fine woman such as yourself way out this way all by your lonesome? You look like you could use some company."

Sarah frowned and shrugged. "Just passing through."

"That your RV out front?"

"Yeah. Is there a problem?"

"Nah, baby, no problem."

"Don't call me that."

"Well you haven't told us your name," the man said reasonably. But his tone was oily, and she'd seen that play before.

"Look, guys. I just want to finish my pancakes and move on, okay?"

"Maybe you'd consider sticking around for a while, huh? That RV got a bedroom right?"

Ick. "Look, I'm not by my lonesome. See that?" She pointed at the plate across from her. "I'm not looking for trouble, and I'm not looking for a date. So, look, guys, I'm trying to be polite about this. but I'm not interested."

The amiable facade crumbled. "Baby, in this town what matters is what _I_'m interested in."

Sarah arched an eyebrow and her training clicked into place. As soon as the two guys' guns had registered she'd pulled her purse into her lap. Now, under the table she slid her hands inside it and began screwing the suppressor into place on her pistol. "And when the diner owner calls the police?"

"Hah," the shorter one said. "Nancy? Call the cops? She knows better'n that by now."

Chuck came out of the bathroom and spotted the two guys immediately, leaning over their table and, not threatening, but at least making Sarah uncomfortable with their attempts at picking her up. Chuck had seen that kind of thing before, and it had always ticked him off, which wasn't helped by the fact that they were hitting on his wife.

"Hey, hon," Chuck said. "These guys bothering you?"

"Oh the boyfriend," one said, turning to face him. The man made a shooing gesture. "Buzz off."

"Husband," Chuck said.

"What?" Both men turned now, which was what Chuck had hoped for.

"I'm the husband, not the 'boyfriend,'" Chuck explained. "So, why don't you 'buzz off'. Shoo, fly, don't bother me."

"You some tough guy? Huh?" one said, pulling the flap of his coat wide to show off the pistol in the shoulder holster. "Think maybe we teach you and your stuck-up bitch wife a lesson about tough."

Chuck paused for a moment in thought and raised an eyebrow to Sarah, past the two men. She nodded. "Well, that's quite a nice gun you've got there. Not quite as nice as the one my wife is pointing at your back. Because hers has a silencer. Does yours have a silencer? Because if not, and you somehow do manage to get a round off, the cops will come running, won't they?"

The second man snorted a laugh, though he was visibly shaken. He risked a glance over his shoulder and Sarah waved the tip of the silencer at him. He swallowed nervously. And the other one scowled. "She ain't gonna shoot nobody, silencer or no. Shoot a guy in the back can't claim self defense. Not that it'd matter if she could, in this town. Ain't no law here but us. So, put the gun away and play nice, girlie, and we won't kill your boytoy here. Hey, maybe we'll even let him watch."

"Ew," Chuck said. "You're like fifty different kinds of dead right now and you don't even know it."

"Think you can come into our town and threaten us?"

"Um... wow guys. Pot and Kettle much? Anyway, _I'_m not threatening you. I'm not even armed. I'm just saying, one more wrong word out of you and I don't think I'll be able to stop _her_ from killing you both. Sarah, honey, you want to weigh in?"

"I'm gonna shoot the big one, next time he calls me 'girlie'. You just kick the other one in the junk to slow him down a little and I'll finish him off. Any time you're ready."

The taller one's self assurance took a bit of a tumble when he heard the quiet certainty in her voice. Of course, he'd expected her to be afraid and trying to hide it. Idiot. A woman who just happened to have a suppressed pistol in her purse and she wasn't going to use it when threatened? What kind of hold did they think they had over this place? The tall one moved, spinning back toward her and reaching for his gun. She swiveled to cover the other one, trusting Chuck to take care of the one closer to him, despite what they'd just talked about.

Chuck's hand darted to the back pocket of his jeans, and came out with his flashlight-stungun. He knew Sarah's moves well enough to do the opposite of what she'd 'told' him to do. It's not like these two were smart enough to overthink it and require a double bluff, expecting Chuck not to 'follow orders'. The closer one to Chuck, the big one, was only half-turned, still fumbling to get his gun out, when Chuck hit the red button and jammed the spiked end of the flashlight into the man's neck, blasting out a quarter million volts. It wasn't enough current to do lasting harm, though the voltage would stun him for a few minutes.

The second man cursed his surprise when his friend went down, and started for his own gun a beat slow, until the sound of Sarah racking the slide on her little 22 settled him down. Chuck waited until the remaining goon moved his hand gingerly away from the pistol and put his hands up, before jamming the flashlight into his neck and flicking the red button again. In short order the two men made a heap on the floor.

"It's okay now. Uh, Nancy, right?" Sarah called "You can come out now."

The waitress peeked her head out of the kitchen and her eyes widened. "Oh my god what did you do? You're gonna get us all killed!"

"Huh?" Chuck said. "How so? We can just explain to the cops and..."

Sarah slid out of the booth and checked the two goons. Her face blanched. "Uh, Chuck? We got a problem."

She held up a pair of badges that read Deputy Sheriff.

"What the hell is going on in this town?" Chuck said.

"Nancy, get us some duct tape to tie these bozos up."

Chuck darted over to the door and flicked the sign over to the 'closed' side. He paused for a moment, and spotted the little 'back by' clock, and spun the dial to thirty minutes.

"What?" The waitress said. Maybe she was going into shock or something.

He turned to stare at the waitress over his shoulder. "Duct tape. Don't try and tell me you don't have any duct tape."

Sarah meanwhile, went through the unconscious thugs' pockets for wallets, as well as spare mags for their pistols.

Chuck came over and watched her work. "Anything interesting?"

"Kimber custom .45s, with laser-grips. These are like 2 grand each," she said, waving one of the pistols. "Plus they've each got about that in cash. No way these guys are regular cops. Badges notwithstanding. I'm guessing the whole force is moonlighting for somebody besides the taxpayers."

"That's what tipped you off? Not their gross behavior?"

Sarah shrugged. "Well, that too. Maybe Nancy will fill us in... once... she's taking a long time with that duct tape."

"Crap," Chuck said. "Go after her, I'll keep an eye on these two."

Sarah nodded and tossed him her silenced 22, heading toward the kitchen doors with a .45 in each hand. The waitress and the cook were both over by the landline, and Sarah's face tightened. "Put down the phone. Right now."

The cook, a heavyset woman in her fifties or early sixties turned with a cleaver in hand. Sarah raised one 45 at each woman and arched an eyebrow. She racked the hammers back with her thumbs. "Now, please. And put the cleaver down while you're at it."

They backed away a pace, the cook setting the heavy blade down on a counter and sliding it across toward Sarah. "Who were you trying to call?" Sarah said.

"The Sheriff..."

"Those guys... you heard what they were threatening?" Sarah said. "I'm assuming you were calling him out here to come arrest _them,_ weren't you?"

They stared at her, and Nancy shook her head dejectedly. "You don't understand."

"I think I do, actually. What are they running through this place? Guns? Drugs?" Sarah said. "That's it, right.? They took over the town, bought all the local cops and politicians, then brought in their own guys as enforcers? Why not call in the FBI?"

"It's not that simple," the cook said. "People have been disappearing. Anybody who says boo, the next day they're just... gone. Whole families sometimes. Plus, they've got guys on 'security' at the schoo-"

"No! Shut up! You're gonna get us killed!" Nancy said.

"Sarah? Any luck on that duct tape? I don't want to keep tasing these guys over and over, and the first one's coming to."

Sarah flicked on the safety on one of her .45s and tucked it in the small of her back. "Duct tape, toss it," Sarah said, pointing to a roll on a convenient nail over by the phone.

The cook flicked toward her and Sarah caught it, raised her voice. "Comin' at ya," she said.

"Ow!" Chuck said. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"So," Sarah said. "I get you're scared. I'm not. If anything I'm pissed. So, why don't you tell me what the hell is going on in this damn town?"

The cook seemed willing to talk, but Nancy shook her head vigorously. Sarah waved the pair back away from the phone, went over and yanked the cord out of the wall, keeping her gun covering them all the while.

"Last chance to talk," she said.

"You're no better than them," Nancy said, shaking.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'm plenty better."

"But you said..."

"Last chance not to get tied up and gagged with duct tape. I can tell you, it's not fun getting loose, tape in your hair, ugh," Sarah explained. "I'm not going to kill you for being scared."

The cook seemed to be taking heart from it, the more Sarah talked to her, but Nancy was almost frantic. "I'm not saying anything. They won't do anything to me if I don't tell you anything..."

Sarah recognized the sheer terror in the woman's reaction and nodded. "That's fine. I'm going to have to tie you up to convince them neither of you talked though. And I'm gonna need your cell phones."

Chuck took their shoulder holsters first, before he looped the duct tape several times around both goons' wrists and ankles, then between the hands and feet, and bent them until arms and legs met in the small of their backs and taped the two sets of bonds together. They were trussed up back to back like prize pigs, which Chuck found only fitting. He poked his head into the kitchen and shook his head, astonished that Sarah still had the waitress and the short order cook at gunpoint. He passed her the duct tape and covered her with the .22 while she bound the two women a little less securely than Chuck had done with the goons.

"I want them to be able to get out eventually," Sarah explained. "We can't just leave them to starve. Come on, let's put this idiot town behind us."

Chuck frowned at her once they locked the door behind them with the cook's keys. "Are we really leaving? This town really seems like it needs a change in management."

"No, we're not really leaving. Have I not explained to you about disinformation?"

"Oh. I guess that makes sense," Chuck said. "You get anything out of the cook and our waitress?"

"No. Too scared."

"Should _we _be scared?" Chuck asked.

"Not if we're careful," Sarah said. "You got their car keys?"

"Yeah."

Sarah put out her hand and Chuck dropped the keys into her palm. It wasn't a standard police cruiser, but a black Lexus sedan. They obviously didn't care about keeping up appearances. Had the whole town running scared. She opened the door and dropped into the driver's seat, then began rooting through the center console and glove box. "What are you looking for?"

Sarah shrugged. "Don't know. If they're really sloppy maybe a map with 'drug lab' labelled neatly?"

Chuck snorted. "I don't think anybody'd be that sloppy."

"You'd be surprised. Some of the missions I went on with Carina, Lord those drug guys could be careless. A little too much sampling of their own merchandise. Almost felt bad about how rough we were taking them down."

"Really?"

"Nah, not really. Those two in there certainly played to type in the way their threats were running," Sarah's voice got distracted toward the end.

Chuck grimaced at the idea of worse threats than the 'deputies' had thrown at them. "You find something?"

"Yeah. Map. No markings, though. Too much to hope for twice in one lifetime," she said. "You got their phones? Check their call histories. If they're smart they'll have cleaned them out, but.."

Chuck fished one of the phones out and tried to flip through the contacts. "Lock code," he grunted, and tried the other. "Eh, give me an hour with my laptop. Neither of these yahoos bothered to set a number of attempts before lockout. Anything else in there look promising?"

Sarah came out with a pair of loaded magazines. "Spare mags for our boys' .45s. That's about it. Here, I'll pop the trunk."

Chuck nodded and headed in that direction. He shook his head sourly. Sarah came out of the car and caught his expression.

"An old tarp with what looks like some blood on it, some handcuffs, and a pair of shovels. These two have been busy on body disposal."

"Ugh," Sarah said. "The waitress mentioned people disappearing. Guess those two were the ones doing the work." She paused and looked at him for a moment. "I can go back in and dispense some justice if you want."

"There's probably DNA in the tarp and on the handcuffs. If we find the bodies is't enough to convict them."

"Exactly, why wait?" Sarah said joining him at the trunk. Chuck grimaced and she sighed. "Right, I forgot. Not in cold blood. Though it does beg the question what to do about this stuff. We can't just leave the car here for them to dispose of the evidence, and splitting up into a convoy increases our profile. And our profile is plenty big already." She bobbed her head toward the winnebago.

"Trash bags," Chuck said. "We can collect this stuff without putting our own fingerprints on it, and then isolate it in that spare storage space in the Winnebago to maintain chain of custody."

Sarah nodded. "We'd better hurry. More goons might show up any minute. And we need more intel before we get in any deeper."

Chuck ran over to the winnebago and retrieved a handful of trash bags. They maneuvered the body burying kit into the bags and tucked them away in the storage closet of the winnebago, careful not to put fingerprints on anything as they did.

Sarah produced one of her ever-present knives and flattened all the tires of every car in the parking lot. "Don't want to count on those goons not just stealing somebody else's ride," she explained.

They got back on the highway; here in basically the middle of nowhere, it was a forlorn little two-lane affair, with a couple city-blocks worth of businesses and shops, with a small grid of residential streets beyond. None of which looked promising for hiding something the size of the RV. "We might have to ditch and start driving the Gremlin around," Sarah said.

"Because nothing says inconspicuous like a '78 Gremlin?" Chuck said.

Sarah shrugged sourly. "You got a better idea?"

"Not at the moment," Chuck said. But then he blinked. "Actually, hmm... give me a minute."

Chuck went in back and found his laptop. He fired up the cellular card and ran a quick search. "What was the name of this town... No, I mean the county?"

"Uh... I think they're the same thing. Erewhon township, Erehwon county," Sarah said craning her neck to peer back at him. "I remember the sign a few miles back. What are you looking for?"

"Didn't you say they rigged the elections or something, so they could install their own guys? I'm hoping the guy who lost for sheriff is one of those old curmudgeonly types who won't leave even when the whole place goes down the crapper. And eyes on the road please?"

"It's deserted, but fine. I hadn't thought of that, about the losers of the elections," Sarah said. "Any luck?"

"Give it a second, cell coverage is spotty. I've only got a 1X data connection."

"Is that bad?"

"If this was 1995, it'd be amazing. Let me just put it like that."

"Um?"

"It's about the same as dial-up."

"Why don't you just say that then?"

"Okay, I got something," Chuck said. "He's still listed as a resident, I'm sending the address to my phone now. Hopefully I'll still have GPS coverage."

The previous Sheriff of Erewhon county took a long time in answering their knock, and Chuck started getting edgy. The ramshackle little farmhouse was a half-mile or so down a little dirt road that was barely marked. A couple of times on the way, he'd been afraid Sarah was going to lose the road entirely, or maybe the drivetrain on the winnebago. One of them would have to go eventually, judging by the roughness of the ride.

Finally the door opened, and a wiry old man in a beat up pair of jeans and a flannel shirt glared at them through the screen door, from behind a pump action 12-gauge shotgun with the barrel cut down short.

"You can't read or something?"

"Huh?"

"I got a sign. No solicitors? Tresspassers'll be shot?" he slurred his words slightly. Not drunk, this early in the day, but on the edge of it. "Ringin' any bells?"

"Um... we need your help?"

The ex-sheriff blinked for a moment and the barrel of the shotgun swung away from them. "Say that again."

"The um... new deputies?" Chuck said. "We kind of tased them and left them tied up at the diner?"

"'zat a question?"  
Sarah cleared her throat. "No, we did it. I wanted to go back and finish them off, but my um..." she indicated him with a wave of her thumb. "Chuck is a by-the-book kind of guy." Chuck glared at her. 'By the book?' If Casey could see her now. "You know, trial, sentencing, _then _execution."

"Trial?" the ex-sheriff said, as if trying to catch up. "They got the judge and the mayor in their pocket too. Ain't gonna be no trial."

"Well, there's always the FBI."

"Think I ain't tried that? They told me don' go teachin' granma ta suck eggs."

Chuck raised his hand. "What does that mean? I've always been curious."

The old man glared and Chuck shifted his feet. "So, you two really put your foot in it. Why are you darkenin' my doorstep? Why ain't you halfway to Salt Lake City?"

"We want to help."

"'zat a fact?"

"We've already probably got enough evidence to put the so called deputies away. A couple days recon and we can probably have the rest of these idiots sewn up in a sack for the feds."

This, for the first time, really seemed to get through to the old man. "Evidence?"

"Tarp, shovels, handcuffs. From the back of their car. Our waitress at the diner let slip about people disappearing. Wendy, right?"

The shotgun came down to port arms. "You'd better come on inside and..." He grunted sourly. "zat your RV? Bring 'er around back. I got a barn I ain't usin'. Gotta keep that thing outta sight."

"Thanks," Chuck said. He hopped in the 'bago and Sarah and the sheriff walked around the house to open the barn doors. "I didn't want to think they were really doin' it."

"I'm sorry?" Sarah said.

The old man sighed. "I guess I was fooling myself. I hoped people were just wising up and gettin' outta Dodge. You got somebody at the FBI will actually listen?"

"At the FBI? No," Sarah said. "DEA? I've got a couple people who might be willing to lend a hand. Assuming these guys are running drugs and not guns?"

Chuck drove the RV through into the barn.

The sheriff gave her last question some thought. "I don't know if its one, the other or both."

"Then we'll just have to find out."

Chuck came back from the RV. "So, can you help us?"

"Mebbe. I need to sober up first," the ex-sheriff said. "Name's Garry Turner."

"Oh, yeah. We knew that... from the election records," Chuck said.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "He's Chuck, I'm Sarah."

"Oh, duh, sorry!" He stuck his hand out to shake, and Turner took it after a moment.

"Who did you say you work for again?"

"We didn't," Sarah grinned. "CIA. We're retired."

"So, you know how to shoot at least?"

"Yeah, Chuck did you grab my Uzi?" Sarah asked. He nodded and unslung the smg and passed it over.

"Your..." Turner's eyebrows went up, and he grinned in spite of himself when he took in the heavy modifications the weapon had undergone recently. "You know, all of a sudden I don't quite feel so hopeless."

Once inside the relative safety of the Turner farmhouse, the old Sheriff sat down in a big poofy armchair with ripped upholstery, and sat silently for a while, as if he was gathering himself. Chuck and Sarah leaned into the silence, and Turner started and stopped a couple of times. They had to wait for him to finish sobering before he finally went into the story of how things in Erewhon had come to such a state. It had started with the judge. Erewhon county only had the one, and it had happened gradually. Ex-Sheriff Turner wasn't exactly sure what leverage the cartel had used on him, but over time, his decisions had begun to be less and less strict. Sentences had gotten smaller. At first that wasn't much concern because there wasn't much crime in the area. The tipping point had been the last election. Both Sheriff and Mayoral elections had been tightly contested. Turner had suspected tampering, but the judge had refused to hear of a recount, and his written opinion had carried enough weight with the circuit court, that any hope of taking it further was all but squashed. And Turner didn't have the money or the public persona required to make a national issue of it, and so he and the old Mayor had both been shunted aside. And crime hadn't really gone up. Or, arrests hadn't, anyway.

When people had started coming to him with complaints, he'd gone to the FBI with what he knew, and been told they wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole. Election tampering was a serious crime, but if you couldn't prove it? You just came off sounding like a loon, or a drunk, and the FBI was in always in some kind of budget crunch or another. It was one of those things nobody liked to talk about. FBI funding was always subject to fluctuation, and if the Salt Lake City FBI field office took on a quixotic mission to go after vote tampering where there wasn't any, they'd be the laughingstock of the Bureau. And laughingstocks got their budgets cut and their SICs transferred to less responsible positions.

A week after that, things had gotten worse. People started leaving town, or he'd thought they were leaving. Turner shook his head in denial. "Here I am drinking my liver away, while people are getting-" His fist tightened around his whiskey glass-which now held almost entirely iced tea instead of whiskey. The full explanation had taken hours, and now it was well on into the late afternoon.

"Do you think they'd look for us here? Are you still on their radar?" Sarah asked. "If the bad guys spot us around town again, I mean. What would be their response?"

"Aside from killing you?"

"Trying to," Sarah corrected. "Nobody's succeeded yet. And believe me they've tried more effectively than I expect these guys to, if their deputies are any guide."

Turner looked at Chuck, who merely shrugged. "Maybe we should set out some bottles to shoot or something, so you know what you're dealing with," he suggested.

"I thought you were looking to keep a low profile," Turner said.

Sarah produced her silenced .22 and raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you got plenty of empties you can afford to have perforated." Which is how they found themselves a few minutes later by an old wooden fence out back. There was a much-neglected hay bale behind the fence, and it should serve pretty well as a backstop for the bitty .22LR projectiles.

Sarah thumbed rounds into her spare magazine. The Smith & Wesson only held six rounds, even as small as they were. She checked to make sure Chuck and the ex-Sheriff were safely behind her, seated a round in the chamber and slid the gun into its holster. "You can learn something from this if you pay close attention," she said. And then she moved. One instant she was standing easily, the next she was half-crouched around the tiny pistol that had appeared magically in her hands. She had turned a little, cupping the weapon carefully about sixty feet from the fence.

Thu-thump. Smash. Thu-thump. Smash. Thu-thump. Smash. A stream of tiny casings blasting out the side of the pistol. Bottles jumping into the air where struck, and then pinwheeling away where her follow on shots shattered the still upward bound airborne remnants. A tinkle of tiny bits of glass striking the wooden fence and the ground.

Sarah ejected the magazine and checked the chamber, then grinned. "Want to back up to a hundred yards so I can do the same thing with the Uzi?"

"You as good as her?"

"Target shooting, a little better, actually," Chuck said. "But put me in front of a live target? Not so much."

Sarah looked a little affronted, then her brow creased with determination. "Is that a challenge?"

"What, no," Chuck said. "It's just a fact. I mean there's not much room for improvement on a performance like that but..."

"Exactly," Sarah said.

"Well, I've got some actual... targets back in the house."

"Go get 'em," Sarah said. Chuck rolled his eyes.

Turner flicked his eyes from Chuck to Sarah and back, grinned and went off.

"Sarah, is this gonna be a big thing?"

"No. But I bet you're not a better shot than me."

"Intersect," Chuck touched his temple.

"That's cheating though!"

"We never said no flashing."

Sarah grinned.

"Okay, I know that grin. And flashing your boobs at me while I'm trying to shoot is definitely outside the rules."

"You're no fun."

Chuck sighed. "What are we betting?"  
"Wait, what?"

"You said you bet I'm not a better shot than you. What would you bet?"

"No intersect?"

"Well that's hardly a contest," Chuck said. "Without it I don't stand a chance."

"Hm. Fine," Turner was on his way back. "I bet..." she leaned in and whispered it in his ear.

Chuck's eyes went wide and he blushed crimson. He coughed into his fist. "And if you win?"

"I'll think of something..." she said, eyeing him up and down seductively and raising one eyebrow.

"I get the feeling that there are no losers in this bet," Chuck said.

Sarah shrugged and stepped away a little. "Funny how that works out."

She displayed her usual expert markswomanship, and then distracted Chuck by swooping in and tugging his earlobe with her teeth when it was his turn.

"Agh, hey! No fair, cheating!" Chuck flinched away from her, carefully keeping the pistol pointed in a safe direction.

Turner cleared his throat. "Okay, you can obviously both shoot. So, if you two are done playing grabass, we've got some plans to make."

Chuck and Sarah turned to the old sheriff and shrugged sheepishly. They followed him back into the house. "He reminds me of Casey," Chuck grumbled, lagging back a little.

"Yeah?" Sarah cocked her head. "Oh. That time he almost caught us in the supply closet!"

Chuck blushed but managed a reassuring smile. "You remembered that, huh?"

"I take it that wasn't the only time we used the supply closet for that?"

"Uh, that's a safe assumption, yeah."

She grinned and her eyes flashed mischievously. "We ever do it in a hayloft?"

"No..."  
"Good, then that'll be a first later, when I collect on our bet."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: so, I got a PM demanding I post the next chapter. While this immediately provokes my 'don't post in retaliation button', instead, I'm gonna post. Granted, this reinforces 'bad' behavior, but whatever, I was almost ready to post anyway. You know who you are, and I demand that you review!

Sarah vs the Hayloft:

While Chuck worked on hacking the phones captured from the two goons at the diner, Sarah and Turner put their heads together with his maps of the town and surrounding area. There wasn't a lot to see. Lots of empty fields and some with crops, but an abundance of wide open spaces. Sarah worked out an approach that would let them use a wooded hill a mile or so north of the town proper to set up an observation post with good lines of sight, but they needed Chuck's intel from the goons' phones in order to know who and what their time would be best spent watching.

Plus he marked out the county courthouse-cum-townhall, where the corrupt judge and the dirty mayor usually hung their hats. The likely-murderous current sheriff's office was another good point of interest, but it was more isolated from the town, and thus more difficult a tactical problem for covert surveillance.

"So, you want to just spy on them?"

"For starters," Sarah said. "That's always the first step, unless the shit has already well and truly hit the fan and your only choice is to shoot it out. You were in law enforcement, you know that. Only you call it investigation instead of reconnaissance. We can't really do any quality eavesdropping without some better equipment. I put a call in to my friend at the DEA, but I just got her voicemail. She's probably out in the field somewhere. So we can't count on her swooping in with a SWAT team tomorrow morning and solving all our problems."

"That was a possibility?"

"She was one of my bridesmaids," Sarah said. "But, yeah. She'd probably still come help out despite that."

"Huh?"

"Joke. Nobody likes wearing those ugly bridesmaid dresses. But she'd still help out anyway?"

"Oh. Funny," Turner said deadpan. Sarah pursed her lips in annoyance. "But, I'm probably not the best audience for jokes that involve fashion," Turner went on, waving down at his tattered denim overalls.

"Yeah, okay I get that," Sarah said. She tapped the map. "Other than setting up an observation post here, or getting our hands on somebody for an interrogation, what have you got in the way of armaments? If it does come down to an all up gunfight at the OK corral kind of a situation?"

"Not a lot," Turner said. "My 12 gauge, my deer rifle, and my boy's old .22 varmint rifle. Plus my old service revolver and vest. Almost forgot about them."

"What about other things. You're living in a farmhouse. You have a generator or something? Enough fuel we could rig something to blow? Or even mix it with some motor oil to make a smoke screen?"

"There's an old diesel pump for the tractor, don't know if there's any fuel left. The tractor itself's all rusted to hell. But I got a 500 gallon propane tank to run the heater in winter."

Sarah's eyes brightened and she grinned, the inklings of a plan taking root in her devious mind. "Let's go check," she said. A short trek out to the pump and a check of the dipstick against the chart on the side of the pump revealed there were nearly 400 gallons of diesel fuel in the underground tank. "Yeah," Sarah smirked. "I can work with that."

* * *

"Any luck yet?" Sarah asked when she came through the door into the RV. Chuck was at the table hunched over his laptop.

"I'm still mapping out the phone tree," Chuck said.

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I got into their phones, and hacked the phone company records for the call histories of every number in their contacts' pages," Chuck explained, waving at the screen, full of meaningless numbers in a spreadsheet.

"Reverse phone directory helped a little, but most of them are on burner phones purchased up in Salt Lake city. The sheriff gets calls from those two bozos whose phones we grabbed on the land line in the sheriff's station all the time. And some of these numbers call the mayor at city hall sometimes, but no more than I'd expect if they were actually trying to run some semblance of actual city services on the cheap."

"Huh, yeah. They have to keep the power grid maintained, the plumbing operational and the county roads in at least passable condition, or no amount of vote buying and complainer 'disappearing' on earth would keep this covered up," Sarah pondered that for a moment then shrugged. "Probably didn't think that through before they took over a whole town. Anything else useful?"

"Well, first thing, I disabled the GPS transponders, so they can't trace _us _with them. And I've got the GPS logs from their phones for the last six months," Chuck said, tapping some keys and turning the laptop so she could see. "Here, come look."

Sarah grinned, and sat down on his knee instead of pulling out her own chair. Chuck snaked a hand around her waist and flicked more keys; a map came up, complete with a mess of squiggly lines, one red, one blue, each denoting one of the goons they'd left hogtied at the diner. "Mm..." Sarah said. "Looks like a couple of points of interest we didn't know about. Drug lab, maybe? That could be important."

"Maybe it's a drug lab. Maybe it's their warehouse. Wait, why is that important?"

"We bait them out and then blow the drug lab sky high," Sarah said. "Or warehouse. Turner's got plenty of stuff for me to make some party favors."

"What good does that do us?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Mix together make big boom. I find that enough high explosive and thermite fix most of your run-of-the-mill drug cartel-type problems."

"Oh... but I thought we were going to gift wrap them for the FBI?"

Sarah shrugged one shoulder and kissed the top of his head. "If we can. If we can't, I'll settle for sending their drug manufacturing plant into low earth orbit. Okay, I'm heading for the shower. You know you've got an open invitation to join me in there," she said.

"I keep telling you there's no way we'll both fit in there," Chuck said.

Sarah shook her head. "We'll never know for sure unless we try! Okay, I'm not gonna push, you're still busy doing..." she waved vaguely at the laptop. "Whatever that is. Phone trees?"

"We want to know more about the structure of the gang here, right? This is how I contribute."

"Okay."

"And it doesn't help my concentration you waving your hot body all over the place."

Sarah grinned roguishly and sashayed off toward the shower. "Argh!" Chuck shouted after her, "You're killing me!"

"Only from exhaustion!" she sniped back.

Chuck grumbled under his breath and contemplated pouring a liter of cold water down the crotch of his pants.

Sarah certainly took her time in the shower, long enough that he was worried about their supply of generator fuel holding out, and went to check the fuel tank. While he was doing that, he checked the hose they'd run from the tailpipe out the door of the barn to keep the exhaust fumes from giving them carbon monoxide poisoning.

Sarah must have topped off their tanks from Turner's diesel pump. He went back in and kept at it. Sarah finally came out of the shower, and he tried to keep his eyes riveted to his computer screen, considering how distracting she could be when she wasn't sparkly clean dripping fresh from the shower. Chuck managed through sheer strength of will, to avoid watching whatever she was up to in the kitchenette right behind him. She wasn't talking, but he didn't think it was a sullen silence, and after a few minute she went out briefly, before retiring to the bedroom in the back of the RV. Chuck thought he had the web of phone numbers sorted out. There were about two dozen people with burner phones involved. Counting the two goons, the mayor and the current sheriff, and the judge, that was nearly 30 people. Which was a daunting number, assuming they all had access to firearms.

Chuck made a note to look into any recent arrivals in town, but he suspected those people were all bunked out at the potential drug-lab or processing plant or whatever it was that he'd spotted from the goons' phone GPS. He checked his email, and saw another worried message from Ellie, and one from Morgan. He sighed and got to work putting out those fires.

"You done in there?" Sarah called.

"Yeah. I think I'm gonna call it a night on the cartel research," Chuck replied. "I was just gonna email Ellie so she's not leaving me angry phone messages all the time."

"Okay," Sarah said.

* * *

Five minutes later, she burst out of the bedroom and barreled into the main living area. "Come on," Sarah said, grabbing Chuck by the collar from behind and pulling him bodily up from the dinette table and shoving him toward the door. "Hayloft, now!"

"Oh, but I was just..." Chuck turned to go back, but Sarah hung onto his shirt. He saw that she was wearing a pair of very short cut-off jeans and a plaid shirt tied off to expose her midriff and his brain ground to a sudden halt. "Um..."

"Nope. You lost the bet. Hayloft sex time."

"Uh, I'm not complaining about that. Or that outfit, which where the heck did you find a pair of daisy dukes anyway?" Chuck blinked back on topic. "Just, can it wait a couple minutes so I can finish this email blast?"

Sarah gave him a very arch look for a moment, and Chuck shrugged sheepishly. "Stupid question, never mind," Chuck said. Sarah tromped down the stairs out into the barn and made her way to the ladder up to the hayloft. She grinned over her shoulder at him and shook her butt as she shimmied up the ladder. Chuck groaned softly and scrambled up after her, all thought of email forgotten.

Chuck blinked and paused at the top of the ladder, then had to pinwheel his arms for a moment to keep his balance and keep from pitching back over the edge at the sight of the love-nest Sarah had constructed. "Somebody's been busy..." Chuck said.

"Well, yeah. You've been ignoring me for the computer..."

"Not ignoring... you saw how frantic Ellie's been getting in her emails. I had to figure out how to tell her 'we're fine' without lying about mercenary squads and now drug cartels."

Sarah shrugged that off with an airy wave of her hand. "Anyway. Don't worry about it," she said, stretching languorously in the pile of blankets she'd set up in the relatively cramped hayloft, then patted a spot next to her near the picnic basket he hadn't known they possessed.

Chuck gladly took a seat next to her and put a hand on her knee and turned to kiss the side of her neck. Sarah's eyebrows rose and she pulled away slightly when his hand went exploring up her inner thigh. "Now you're in a hurry?"

"The naughty farm-girl in the hayloft thing's really doing it for me."

She grinned momentarily. "Good," the grin faded and she bit her lip. "I don't really know how to bring this up organically. So I'm just gonna go with blunt, okay?"

"Um, okay. Blunt can work. Because sometimes you'd have to hit me with a sack of hammers for me to notice things."

"Okay then. Since I know you'd never ask... I want to try anal. That's what I want for winning the bet."

Chuck's jaw dropped open and he made a shocked choking noise. Eventually his brain recovered from the utter astonishment. "Um... wait, what?"

"Come on, it's not like I don't notice the way you stare at my ass every time I leave the room. Or even walk away from you briefly," Sarah said.

"Okay, guilty, I guess. You do have a fantastic badonkadonk. But I thought we kind of talked about this and you were just fishing for information?"

Sarah shrugged one shoulder. "I was and I wasn't," she said, blushing faintly. "I guess I've had anal on the brain for awhile now. You probably shouldn't look too closely at your internet search history on your laptop."

Chuck stared at her and tried to think. "Why?"

"Um. Do you not know how an Internet History works? I looked up some... stuff..."

"No, why do you want to try this in the first place?"

She shrugged again. "I want you to be my first at something. And to be your first at something. If we'd met a dozen or so years earlier, there'd have been less logistics involved in that, but... that ship has sailed."

"Sarah, I don't care about that kind of thing," he said. "I'm perfectly fine knowing I'm going to be the last guy who ever gets with you. I'm not some troll with the obsessive need to always proclaim 'I was first!'"

She blushed. "Okay. I get that. But maybe _I_ am. You ever think of that? And it's not so much any exes I'm worried about. It's 'other me.'"

Chuck pulled away and found her hands with his in the dimness. "Oh, Sarah. You really don't have to worry about that. I thought you were over that? You know I don't see things that way, don't you?"

She shook her head. "It's not that easy. You say it, and I know you mean it. I even know it myself, in here," she said, cocked her head to one side and poked a finger at her temple. "But I'm kind of an actions speak louder than words kind of girl. And this is one I never did before. I'm all-in here, Chuck. I just don't know how to show it other than to... show it, you know?"

"Well, what you just said," Chuck said. "That kind of covers it, right?"

"But that's so cheap. I can say I'm the queen of Jupiter, and maybe even convince a room full of diplomats. I'm literally that good a liar. But saying it convincingly doesn't make it so, even if I mean it. I've made a living out of lying for practically my whole life. You had to have doubts about me."

"Sarah, no. Don't think that."

"It's just logical. You're a smart guy, you had to have had those thoughts in your head. Probably for years. 'What if...' and then horrible betrayal scenario."

"Not for a long time," Chuck said. "At first, when it was just a cover. If we'd gotten together back before I knew you. Before everything with Roark Instruments, and Ellie's wedding? Maybe. You don't have to carry that anymore. There's nothing to prove."

"My very own baggage handler," Sarah's smile lit up her face. "I remember that one." Chuck grinned and snuggled into her side, wrapped an arm around her waist. She laid her head on his shoulder and played with their linked hands. He tucked her head under his chin and breathed a sigh.

She blinked and pushed herself out to arm's length. "Nice try, bucko. You're trying to welsh on our bet."

"What?"

"I didn't spend half an hour getting all cleaned up down there for nothing. If you really don't want to, I guess we don't have to. Maybe you could tie me up or I could tie you up or something instead. Did we ever do any of that?"

"What?" Chuck said, his voice high-pitched and half-strangled sounding. "No, we didn't. Not for sex anyway."

Sarah blinked as the memory came back. "The train!" she said. "And let me just say, I love how you get all flustered when I try to talk frankly about sex. It's so cute, but I sometimes wonder how we ever got past first base."

"Aside from you saying 'shut up and kiss me', or guiding me toward... certain 'hot button' areas, we didn't really talk a lot about that kind of thing."

"Well, shut up and kiss me, then!"

Chuck grinned and pulled her over half-into his lap, kissing her as good as he knew how. Sarah met him with equal lack of restraint, throwing her leg over him and straddling him, wrapping her arms around his neck and grinding her hips down on him.

Chuck groaned and grabbed the belt loops of Sarah's cut-offs for leverage, rolling them over so he was on top. Sarah laughed. "Mmm... I like it when you take charge like that..." Chuck blushed slightly and paused instead of kissing her again.

"You do, huh?" he said teasingly, and Sarah bit her lip and nodded.

Chuck grinned and pushed himself back upright, fingers working the button fly of her cut-offs to reveal vivid electric blue lacy panties. He tugged the shorts down a little, just enough to give him room to grind his thumb against her through the thin silk.

Sarah sucked in a breath and stifled a moan. Chuck took that as his cue, and pulled back a little more, tugging the cutoffs down her legs. Sarah shimmied her hips a little and raised her legs high up in the air together so that Chuck could yank them up and off entirely over her feet. He tossed the cut-offs over his shoulder, careless of where they went in the fray, and started the same process with her underwear. Chuck dipped to kiss the side of her leg before and after he hauled her little blue panties up up and away.

Sarah wriggled back into the blankets a little and splayed her legs out wide. Chuck grinned. "Is that a hint?" he said. "Maybe you should be frank about what you want?"

She blushed faintly, and opened her mouth to say something, but Chuck didn't give her time to marshal a comeback, lunging down and planting a kiss into her flesh just below and to one side of her belly button, working his way quickly down and sucking her clit gently between his teeth, and whatever she'd been about to say disappeared into a gasp followed quickly by a pleased moan. Chuck dragged one of her legs up and propped her knee up on his shoulder, before stretching up with that hand to caress one of her breasts through the plaid shirt.

With his free hand he spread her lips apart to kiss the tender pink flesh underneath, and Sarah shivered. Right on the end of that shiver, he pressed the first two fingers up into her, and caught her eye grinning, and poked his pinky toward her asshole, rubbing in little circles for a moment before pressing slowly up into her. Sarah thrust her hips into his hand and writhed slowly. "Ah," she gasped.

"God that's way too tight," Chuck said, then kissed the inside of her thigh. "You've got to relax."

Sarah nodded. "Mm... grab the lube..."

"The gun oil you mean?" Chuck gently pulled his hand back and wriggled his fingers back deep into her, finding a slow rhythm.

Sarah bit her lip for a moment and shook her head, caught halfway between amusement and what his exploring fingers were doing. "I don't... want to get into a semantic argument with you about this again. What do you call that... what you're doing right now."

"Uh... the shocker."

Sarah burbled a laugh. "It's not exactly very shocking, under the circumstances."

"I could always upgrade to the live long and prosper."

"The what?"

Chuck extracted his hand and demonstrated the vulcan salute in a new context, smirking. "Or there's the show stopper," Chuck said, shifting his fingers so that his pinky ring and middle finger were all bunched together, with the index free. Sarah's eyes widened in alarm for a moment. "But I think the lube first before we try anything too crazy."

"Yes, please," Sarah said, blushing a deeper shade of rose. "It's in the picnic basket. With some... other stuff."

"Other stuff," Chuck parroted, grinning. "I wonder what that could be..." He snagged the basket and hauled it over, peeking inside. A pair of identical tupperware containers, one full of strawberries, one full of ice cubes. A spare lipstick, for whatever reason. The remaining half-bottle of mineral oil. Also a handful of sandwiches and two 32 oz. bottles of Gatorade for refueling. "Expecting us to be up here for a while, huh?"

Sarah smirked. "All night."

"Well, then..." I suppose we need to use up this ice before it melts," Chuck said. He popped the top and scooped out an ice-cube. The little piece of ice shot out between his fingers and landed in the cleavage of Sarah's plaid shirt. "Agh! Cold! Cold!" Sarah surged up, tugging at her shirt and digging the errant ice-cube out of her bra. She threw it emphatically out the nearby loft window and huffed. "Not as sexy as I imagined. Forget the ice."

"Impossible," Chuck said digging for another ice cube. "The way it made you squirm? I can just imagine what'll happen when I get some oh... here!" Chuck put the ice cube to the ticklish flesh along the side of her ribcage just under the edge of the shirt. "Or... here," he said as he poked the ice playfully into her belly button.

"Agh! Chuck, come on!" Sarah smacked his wrist and Chuck pulled back.

"Or, maybe..." Chuck popped the ice cube into his mouth and sank back between her legs. "Oh, christ, Chuck, st-aaah!" Sarah's eyes widened and she went taut for a moment, gasping and wriggling deliciously. Her clit stood out hard under the cold and the muscles of her torso rippled as she shivered. Chuck pulled away, grinning with the cube between his teeth.

Sarah swiped the ice-cube out of his mouth, shoved him away and spun, coming to her feet. She darted over to the picnic basket and tossed the whole tupperware of ice down out of the hayloft. She breathed a sigh of relief and glanced back at Chuck. He pulled his eyes away from her rump and she rolled her eyes and flexed her glutes momentarily so the firm muscles there stood out. "Enjoying the view?"

"Immensely."

"Mhmm... I can see that," she said, sauntering back over and kneeling down to attack his fly. In a somewhat startlingly short amount of time, Sarah had him stripped naked and began a vigorous campaign to explore his entire body with her mouth, starting at his collarbone and down the outside of his arm, back up the inside and down the side of his chest.

Chuck had no problem with her apparent plan, though she did seem to get fixated on his bathing suit area. Which he also had no problem with. She took him in her mouth and sucked hard, head bobbing vigorously. Chuck groaned. "I'm not going to be much use for the rest of your plans for tonight if you keep that up."

Sarah pulled away suddenly and blinked at him, as if she'd forgotten entirely about collecting her winnings. She pursed her lips and eyed his dick consideringly for a moment, visibly torn between two courses of action. Chuck shrugged. "Here, swing your butt around my way, and I'll start lubing you up... just don't get too carried away down there."

She grinned and pulled the basket closer, passed him the bottle of mineral oil, and tossed her head to get her hair out of her face. She turned slowly, shuffling around on her knees, backing up to put her ass within easy reach before bending over and taking him in her mouth again.

He squeezed some oil out into his palms and began rubbing it into her ass cheeks. Chuck grinned and made overly-large circles for a moment, first one hand clockwise on her right cheek, then left hand, counter-clockwise on the left. "Wax on... wax off."

Sarah made a muffled sound of confusion and pulled up to frown a question at him. Chuck shrugged. "Karate Kid, you never saw that one?"

She shook her head. "Unless I saw it with you?"

"Another one for the list," Chuck said.

"Mmm... maybe I can find _some_ way to persuade you to forget about the weeklong movie marathon you're planning..." she said and resumed the blowjob with renewed enthusiasm, making loud wet sucking noises when she pulled off for quick gasps of air.

"Ugh, Sarah... slow down," Chuck said raggedly. She murmured around him and nodded, eased up the pace slightly, and he tried to concentrate on rubbing oil into her backside. He squeezed out a bunch onto the small of her back and spread it down in between her cheeks, rubbing little circles around her butthole and working the oil deep into her flesh.

It actually took a little time to work up the courage to lube up his middle finger and ease it up into her. Sarah's head froze in its rhythm of sucking him off and she hissed out a long breath as he wiggled his finger deeper. "You okay?"

She peered at him upside down for a moment, and he could see a blush dappling her face. "Your fingers are just... ah... a touch bigger than mine."

Chuck nodded and kissed her hip. He started slowly moving his finger in her. After a while, he pulled it free completely and pushed it back in several times. Sarah groaned and pressed her forehead into his thigh. She gripped his cock in one hand and stroked absently, but she was obviously more concerned with what he was doing to her at the moment. Chuck didn't particularly mind; he had already been dangerously close when she was concentrating on using her mouth on him.

His finger sped up to a rhythm closer to the usual pace of their slow lovemaking. Sarah moaned, and Chuck picked up the pace a little more. Her breath caught for a moment and she let a long breath out her nose. Chuck paused. "Okay?"

"Yeah..." she bit her lip. "Keep going." Sarah seemed to remember his member, and sucked the tip gently as he worked.

"You want to try another finger in there?" he asked.

Sarah pulled up and met his eyes. She fought a blush and lost. "Maybe you can try that spock one?"

"And you call me a nerd," Chuck said. "Got a little Leonard Nemoy crush?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "No."

"I don't know," Chuck said, teasing her shamelessly with word and fingers both. "I think you do..."

She pursed her lips in a pout. Which was just the sexiest thing ever, under the circumstances. Chuck slowly pushed his fingers into both holes at once, pinky and ring finger into her folds and middle and index into her tighter rear opening. Sarah bit her lip and pushed her hips back into him, until he filled her to his knuckles.

"You set your own pace," Chuck said, holding his hand steady and laying back to watch. Sarah moaned at the feel of the doubled contact, ducked her head and rocked gently back and forth. Chuck curled his fingers inside her and she moaned for a moment, then snickered.

"What?"

"Idle funny thought. I feel like a hand puppet," she said.

"I'll quit it..."

"I didn't say it was a bad feeling..." Sarah said, reaching back to grab his wrist and keep him from pulling his fingers out. She leaned a little further upright and groped in the picnic basket.

"What're you looking for?"

Sarah's hand came out with the lipstick, and he frowned, until she popped the cap off, flicked a tiny switch on the side and it began emitting a low buzz. His eyebrows went up. "Am I not getting the job done?"

Sarah blushed. "No, you're great. This," she waved the tiny vibrator. "I bought it when I was hunting Quinn, when I was trying to deny I felt anything for you? I started feeling a little pent up, and even Pocket-Chuck wasn't cutting it anymore by the time I got back to Burbank."

"I never would have guessed," Chuck said with a sly grin. "You were so... subdued... on the beach."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Okay, funny guy," she said, pressing the vibe into his hand. "Here." She put her hands down on the blanket covering the hay and began thrusting ever so slowly back against his fingers. Chuck reached around with the little vibrator and rubbed it along her folds. One of Sarah's hands came up from the floor and began pinching her nipples. Gradually, she began thrusting back more forcefully, until she finger-banged herself to a moaning, shuddering climax, clenching both holes tight around his fingers in a long string of spasms.

"God, that was hot," Chuck said. "Feeling good?"

Sarah blushed and nodded. "Different, but yeah," she bit her lip. "We need some more lube, but I think I'm ready for the real thing."

One hand dipped into the plaid shirt she still wore, and came out with a condom. Chuck raised an eyebrow. "Um..."

Sarah shrugged one shoulder. "In case this just winds up being beyond awkward instead of hot. We can go back to the old standbys without having to send you downstairs to wash up first."

"That's my girl. Always planning ahead," Chuck said fondly.

Sarah rolled her eyes and tore the condom wrapper open with her teeth. She put the condom between her lips and used her mouth to slide it down onto him. Chuck groaned happily and she spent a little extra time bobbing her head on his latex-clad member before she stopped, glaring accusingly. "I keep getting distracted doing that."

"How's that my fault?"

"I can tell you like it... a lot," Sarah said. Chuck waggled his fingers still inside her and Sarah groaned, knee-walking forward until she tugged them free. Sarah rolled onto her side and raised one leg high, leaving the other stretched out behind her. Chuck simply stared at the sight for a moment, until she cleared her throat and tickled him with her outstretched foot.

"Oh, right. Is that my cue?" Chuck got up to his knees straddling her outstretched leg and kissed the side of her ankle. He rubbed more lube into her and coated himself while he was at it. Sarah watched and bit her lip. "Now you tell me right away if you want to stop, okay?"

Sarah nodded. "Better yet," she said. "Why don't I um... guide you at first?"

"Okay. This is awkward," he said in a stage whisper.

Sarah bit off a bark of laughter and grinned, one hand tugging him forward by a grip on his erection. She reached around behind and spread her butt cheeks apart slightly with the other hand.

Chuck put one hand on her hip and curved the other around to cradle her high flying leg just above the knee.

"Mmm..." Sarah bit her lip in concentration, guiding the tip where she wanted it and pressing it in. She paused. "I like this position, is this a new one for us?"

"Um..." Chuck said, racking his brain. "Maybe. We mostly stuck to the four standard ones. Facing each other, not facing each other, lying down, standing. Ugh..." Sarah rubbed the tip across her butthole. Chuck bit his lip and slowly pushed his hips forward.

Sarah let out a loud moan and nodded. "Yeah, like that." Chuck groaned as he felt her stretching to accommodate him.

"Oh, jesus that's so tight."

Sarah snorted. "I know. I'm kinda wishing you had a littler dick. Ah!"

"We can stop if you want?"

"No, you're already in there, keep going."

"I don't want to hurt you..."

"Chuck?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Shut up and fuck me in the ass. Well, but still go slow unless I tell you you can speed up..."

Chuck grinned. "I get the point, Sarah." He pressed slowly deeper until finally he was all the way in.

"Fuck that's big," Sarah said.

"Um, there's still like half to go."

Sarah's eyes widened and she felt frantically around for a moment, then adopted an irritated expression, rolling her eyes. "Liar." She laughed, and he felt it all the way up his spine. Chuck shivered. Sarah arched an eyebrow and began shifting her hips experimentally, eliciting a growl. Chuck pulled back and slowly thrust back in.

Her hand squeezed his balls gently at the end of each slow out-stroke, tugging him back in just as slowly. "I don't think I'm gonna last very long."

"S'okay. I already got mine, remember?"

Chuck shook his head in determination. "Nuh-uh. Doesn't count. That was foreplay." He suddenly remembered the little vibrator in his hand holding her leg up, and shifted to lay down behind her. With the change in position he had better access; Chuck switched the vibrator back on and worked it down between her legs. Sarah's eyes went wide.

"Oh, god... I forgot about that thing..." Sarah moaned and writhed and Chuck ever so gingerly began working them into a rhythm. It was slower even than their slow sensual lovemaking tempo, but that just gave him longer to work her clit with the little lipstick-sized vibrator.

Sarah's breathing began to quicken and she chewed her lip for a moment, craning around to catch his eye. Chuck kissed her softly. "You can go a little faster if you want..." then a grin lit up her face. "Better yet," she said, rolling him over onto his back and hoisting herself up off him by her hands planted to either side of his chest. Sarah began to control the tempo now, thrusting her hips down onto him and rocking from side to side slowly each time she plunged down onto him fully. She varied the tempo, pausing to waggle her hips suddenly, or grind her butt slowly against him when she had him trapped balls-deep.

"Oh my god, Sarah," Chuck pressed his face into the side of her back and closed his eyes letting her take control. He lost all track of time, concentrating solely on not grabbing her hips and pounding up into her. Finally he remembered his work with the little vibrator, and rubbed the gadget hard against her clit. Sarah cried out as the renewed pleasure sent her over the edge and the ripple of convulsive shocks through their connected bodies took him along after.

* * *

"Chuck, wake up. Do you realize you're snoring?"

"Huh?" Chuck said muzzily, blinking at her. "What?"

Sarah let out a little snort. "I guess I don't have to ask if it was good for you. You just collapsed with this huge grin on your face. For a minute there I was afraid I'd killed you."

He blushed faintly. "Oh, god..." he stammered. "Um... are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "You got me there twice, remember?"

"Not really. It's kind of a blur after you... um... took charge."

"You're trying to work yourself up to asking if we can do that again, aren't you?"

"A little, yeah," Chuck finally admitted, blushing faintly. "How was it for you?"

"Like I said after the one with the fingers. It was... different. Not really better... just different. I'm a little sore back there."

"Which means it was worse," Chuck said.

"Okay, yeah. On balance, it's not really my favorite activity. I'm not sure all the fuss and prep time is worth it."

"Then we don't need to do it again," Chuck said. "I don't-"

"Hey, blowjobs don't exactly rock my world either and I still have fun giving them to you because it's _you. _I'm not taking it off the table entirely," Sarah propped herself up on her elbows."Of course, that's not to say I want you to expect me to be handing out hot and cold running buttsex from now on. Maybe for special occasions. Don't you have a birthday coming up soon?"

Chuck shrugged. "Not really; September isn't for months. Hang on, did you just try and finagle my birthday out of me when I was delirious from sex?"

"Can you think of a better time for me to be finagling things out of you? And do you really think I couldn't finagle things out of you if you _weren't_ delirious? Granted, I now have an apparently unbeatable weapon in my bag of tricks for finagling secrets out of you. Also, I'm going to start saying 'finagle' more."

"Oh, man," Chuck breathed. "That is entirely unfair. You _already_ had me outclassed on that front by like a billion percent." He rolled onto his back and stared up at the rafters of the hayloft.

"I don't know if it's _that _bad," Sarah said. "Maybe a million percent. Wait, that's still... ten thousand times as seductive?"

"Something like that," Chuck said. "I wasn't doing the actual math on it."

"Still, don't sell yourself short," Sarah said.

"Well, 1/10,000th of _your_ sexual magnetism is enough to drive mere mortals, man or woman to distraction oh blonde goddessy one."

Sarah laughed. "Okay, roll over and lose the condom."

"What, why?"

She arched an eyebrow, and her meaning became rapidly obvious as she tugged the condom off him herself and sidled over atop him, finally stripping her flannel shirt and bra off over her head and grinning down at him. "Oh... now I get it..."

* * *

Sarah woke up before dawn, with hay poking her in all kinds of places you don't want hay to poke. In the night she'd rolled off the blanket or something. She couldn't get back to sleep without yanking the blankets she'd brought up from the RV out from under Chuck. He was still snoring softly, deep in sleep, and he looked so cute she didn't want to wake him despite his stealing the covers. And there were a couple of ways she might wake him up that she was certain he wouldn't be too displeased about that she considered briefly.

Instead she groped around in the predawn darkness for Chuck's discarded t-shirt and boxers. Her own clothes were nowhere to be found, after Chuck had flung them carelessly aside. Well, she'd done some clothes flinging of her own, to be fair, but still. Once it was fully light out, she'd have to go track them down. Sarah clambered down the ladder from the hayloft, went in the Winnebago and got some coffee started. She hopped in the shower briefly and gave herself a quick scrub. There was a lingering soreness from the previous night, but not much worse than when her Nerd Herd outfit had made him completely lose control. Sarah dried off and dressed quickly, still smiling to remember that night as well. It wasn't a lost-and-found memory, but a purely new one. She poured herself a mug of coffee and cupped it in both hands, inhaling the aroma of it. Her memories were a funny thing, a quilt of blank spaces and fuzzy recollections and vivid glimpses of normality.

She was almost glad in some ways, for the opportunity to get to know him all over again. Though she would never admit that to Chuck. If she could remember every second of the last five years, at the cost of the last five days, she didn't think she could make the choice.

What she'd managed to salvage of her life was a wondrous thing to her.

Sarah was halfway through her second mug of coffee, and reconsidering her decision not to wake Chuck, when there was a knock on the side door of the RV. She peeked outside, expecting Chuck. Instead, it was old man Turner. With Sarah's panties hanging off one of the tines of a pitchfork. Sarah blushed furiously and snatched the undergarment free of the pitchfork tine.

He grinned. "You two have a good time last night?"

She fought down the blush and stuffed the panties into a pocket, pursing her lips. "Something turn up?"

"Other than panties in my yard, no," Turner said. "Thought maybe we wanted to get started."

"Okay," Sarah said. "Let me go get Chuck."

Turner frowned. "Isn't he," the old man indicated the RV.

"We slept in the hayloft," Sarah had to explain, and then suffered through another bout of blushing.

* * *

Chuck joined them eventually, and Turner presented him with his son's old .22 varmint hunter. "I spent last night working on it," he explained. "I used to do all the gunsmithing for the boys in the department. Threading the barrel didn't take much work. You should be able to mount that suppressor from your pistol on here now."

"That's great," Sarah said, producing her .22 and removing the suppressor. She handed both weapon and suppressor over to Chuck. "We're probably going to have to split up today to get everything done, and I'll be happier if we each have a suppressed option."

"What all is 'everything', on this list of yours?" Chuck asked, fitting the suppressor to the small caliber hunting rifle experimentally. Turner's work was as good as advertised, and the suppressor screwed snugly into place.

"Well, if you don't mind, we're thinking of putting you in the observation post here," she tapped the map. "Just keep watch, write down all the comings and goings from the 'maybe-drug-facility'."

"Huh," Chuck said. "Sounds pretty boring."

"Or I'll take the observation post and you can work on jury-rigging explosives out of as many household chemicals as you can?"

"Oh... um. Observation post you say? Sounds fun!"

* * *

Sarah dropped Chuck off in a copse of trees, staying long enough to make sure his position was invisible from anything over twenty yards. She cautioned him about shooting, to a responding eye-roll from the mostly pacifist-nerd. A 22 didn't pack as much wallop as most bullets. There were actually only a couple of rounds with _less_ power in common use. But even the humble 22 lr would put out a little bubble of overpressure, enough to kick up a tiny dust cloud if fired from prone in a dry area. So Chuck had built himself a perch, complete with a shooting notch in a nearby tree if it came to violence. Neither of them expected it to turn out that way. Right now, they were in the recon and prep phase of the operation. The raised shooting position gave him an even better view of the surrounding areas, since the copse of trees was itself on a hill. That was it's own drawback, however. If these guys ever got their stuff together, getting to the high ground was kind of a universal tactical imperative, and the copse of trees wasn't thick enough to hide a vehicle in.

Sarah gave him a peck on the cheek and squeezed his shoulder. "You got everything you need?"

"Yeah," Chuck patted his binoculars and the pack with his supply of energy bars and bottled water. "I'll call you if anything weird happens," he said, and Sarah gave him a leg up into the 'tree-fort', as he called it.

* * *

The rustbucket of a tractor in the barn gave Sarah all the iron oxide she needed; coupled with powdered aluminum ground off some abandoned siding, and half an hour of sifting, she had two pounds of thermite. Turner took a trip to the hardware store and picked up lead pipe and a package of sparklers from some kids running a fireworks stand. The magnesium in the sparklers would be important getting the thermite to ignite reliably. Mixing the rest of the explosives was trickier, but well within her skillset. Turner watched that process dubiously, still a little unnerved by the idea of weaponizing most of his household chemicals, fuels and fertilizers. And he drew the line at her suggestion that they try to synthesize tear gas. Sarah's recollection of the chemistry involved wasn't quite up to scratch, and there was the risk they might accidentally poison themselves.

Sarah still managed to have two thermite charges, half a dozen distraction 'works' bombs, and a dozen pipe bombs ready when Chuck called in.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I'm not really sure. Actually, it kinda looks like they're making the two guys we left tied up at the diner dig their own graves," Chuck said.

"Okay. Let them," Sarah said. "Two less gunmen to worry about."

"Yeah, but they're the ones who were doing the 'disappearances," Chuck said. "We might get them to flip on the higher ups if we save their lives. And if we let them get killed, the evidence we took from their trunk doesn't link up to anybody still breathing."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "I hate it when you do that," she said.

"Do what?"

"Make a valid point that we should save scumbags' lives. I'd kind of prefer to let them reap what they sow, you know?" Sarah paused. "How far away are they from your position? And why are they doing this in broad daylight?"

"I don't know, half a mile maybe? And that's a good point. You think they just got finished grilling them about what happened in the diner?" Chuck cursed suddenly.

"What is it?"

"I don't think the goons are digging their own graves," Chuck said. "Or maybe not just that. The other two dudes are waving guns around. It looks like they've got the waitress and the cook in the trunk."

"Alive?"

"Yeah, but I don't know for how much longer."

"We're on our way," Sarah said, and began carefully stuffing pipe bombs into a backpack.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks one more time go out to Aerox for the fast beta turnaround. Everyone give him a round of applause.

* * *

Chapter 9: Sarah vs the Wildcard

Chuck watched as the minutes ticked away through the high-powered scope on his low-powered rifle. The graves were deepening with every minute that passed, and his initial thought on the tableau playing out several hundred yards away seemed to have been right on the money. At least judging by what he could see from his perch up in the tree, better than six hundred yards away. Admittedly it wasn't the greatest view, even with the high-powered scope atop the relatively low-powered rifle. But he could at least recognize the pair of goons who'd accosted Sarah back at the diner the day before, and the short-order cook and their waitress. The two goons Chuck recognized were busily digging a pair of graves, flipping shovels of dirt over their shoulders with metronomic precision. The whole time, two other men Chuck didn't recognize held them at gunpoint. The women were bound with their hands behind their backs and sat on the ground near the graves. He called Sarah when the digging goons had disappeared into the deepening holes up past their waists. "How far out are you?" Chuck asked. He put the phone on speaker so he could peer through the scope as he spoke.

"Just a few minutes. Status?"

"Not great, I think they're almost done digging. Unless they actually bother letting the diner goons dig the full six feet."

"Okay. Sheriff, pedal to the metal."

"Hang on," Chuck said. "If you do that, they might hear the engine noise or see a dust plume. We don't want to tip them off you're on the way."

"We may not have a choice on that, Chuck. We're still a couple miles out."

"Crap," Chuck said. "It looks like they're done digging. The gun-goons are waving the diner-goons out of the graves. I think they're about to execute the women."

Sarah grimaced. "This thing go any faster?"

"Not really. But it does have four wheel drive. I can cut the corner, it might save us a little time getting there."

"Or we might bog down."

"Or that."

"Fine, do it," Sarah said. "I'm going to climb out into the back, in case we need to roll up shooting."

His eyes widened when she shoved the rear sliding window of the pickup cab open and wriggled out through it, without even waiting for him to slow down, somehow keeping her balance the entire time. He only had a moment to spare on the sight. He had to concentrate on driving. "Actually," Chuck said. "I've got an idea on how to stall them."

"What?" Sarah shouted over the wind of their passage and cupped her hand over the speaker.

"I've been doing the math, and I think I can lob some 22s downrange and keep the bad guys' heads down until you get there."

"Chuck you're breaking up," Sarah said. "It sounded like you said you want to shoot at them. A 22 isn't going to be worth a damn at that range."

"Not if I'm trying to hit them, no. But their car's a different matter. Bigger target. Like I said. I've been doing the math. Can't decide whether I should correct for the earth's rotation or not in addition to wind gravity, air resistance, temperature and humidity."

Sarah felt her jaw drop open in surprise at all the factors he was apparently juggling.

"You did that math in your head?" she demanded, just a touch shrilly, even though she would later deny it.

"No, my trigonometry is a little out of practice. But I've got a graphing calculator app in my phone, and the Intersect helps out some too," Chuck said. "Okay, I gotta concentrate. Bye." She just heard the faint report of his suppressed .22 rifle over the line before it went dead.

Connor clambered awkwardly out of the grave, Billy a second or two behind him, climbing out of the one he'd dug. Connor was a little shocked he'd been allowed back out. But then, the two enforcers the boss had sent out probably didn't want to dirty their own hands digging graves for anybody. So he had another half hour or so of life left in him, if he could manage to drag out digging his own grave that long.

The enforcer-Connor thought his name was Melvin-gestured with his pistol for the women to get up. The second man was just rounding the car, and Connor stepped closer to Melvin while he was distracted. Connor still had the shovel. If he could only keep Melvin's attention somewhere else, another step would put him in range and... the rear tire on the car exploded. Melvin turned in shock. Connor lunged forward. Billy was slower, he'd been too far away to be contemplating a move. The second enforcer shouted a warning just as Connor swung the shovel. The blade cracked Melvin's gun-hand and his pistol went flying. Behind him, Billy let out a shout and charged. Connor swung again, but Melvin ducked, and he overbalanced when the swing whiffed over Melvin's head, sending the shovel crashing into the rear driver's side window in a shower of breaking glass.

Connor shouted in rage and managed to plant a knee in Melvin's groin before his headlong rush sent them both crashing to the ground.

"Crap," Chuck said, working the action on his rifle to chamber another round. "Crap, crap, crap." Things were moving out of control now. It looked like a general bloodbath was in the offing. He peered through the scope again, the distant picture jumping into sight, if not focus. Two of the goons were down in a tangle, rolling around and trying to strangle each other. Impossible to tell who was winning. The waitress and the cook jumped into their graves to avoid the gunfire. One of the gun-goons opened fire, Chuck heard the crack of gunfire a second after the flash, and it looked like the slower diner goon crumpled. But there were those other two still grappling on the ground in front of their car. Chuck changed his point of aim again, angling up to put the round on an almost parabolic trajectory, held his breath and squeezed the trigger. It was almost three full seconds before the round landed, whipping through the already smashed back window and blasting out the passenger side. The gun-goon behind the car ducked back under cover. More gunshots reached Chuck's ear a little later, and he spotted one of the diner goons getting up. Chuck put another round downrange, and knocked out the front driver's side window. The two remaining goons exchanged fire briefly, both keeping down and using the car for cover, not even aiming, just sticking one hand over the hood and firing they ran out of ammo, Chuck expected the fight to be over, at least for a little while, and he swept the scope over the scene, trying to determine who was still breathing and who wasn't.

But the lull was short-lived. The surviving goon from the diner was busy searching for spare magazines in his victim's coat pockets, and it looked like the remaining gun-goon was doing the same in the front seat of the car. Chuck took his eye off the scope momentarily to get a quick look at the bigger picture. A dust plume was approaching rapidly from the south, which just had to be Sarah and the old sheriff. But it looked like they were still out of range to do anything about anything before the gunfight broke back out. Chuck hunched back down around the rifle and the picture jumped closer again. The gun-goon came out of the front seat with a shotgun and began slowly creeping around the front hood, keeping a careful eye out for the diner-goon. Chuck flinched upward reflexively, the Intersect and his own muscle memory working in tandem. He squeezed off the round and had to wait the same nearly three seconds for his subsonic round to make its long arcing way to its target. The round pinged off the hood of the car and grazed the shotgunner across the forearm. The man dropped down below the line of the hood where Chuck couldn't see him. Chuck grimaced. "Crap," he said aloud, trying to do the math on a trajectory that would let him drop a round just on the other side of the car. As long as the gunman stuck to his cover like that, he'd have to elevate too much, and the wind would send any rounds from his .22, God only knew where. He grit his teeth, realizing what the gunman was thinking. From his vantage he couldn't see much, but he knew the man was heading toward the still-open graves, where the waitress and the cook from the diner had jumped to get out of the line of fire.

Chuck gripped the rifle so hard he heard the wood stock creak as the gunman stood up at last, just a step from the graves. Chuck should have fired three seconds earlier, tried to anticipate the man standing, but even then the odds of him actually hitting the man and disabling him were far from good.

They were trapped and there was nothing Chuck could do as the gunman leveled his shotgun. And then the man's chest and side erupted in a cloud of blood and he crumpled to the ground in a puff of dirt, the shotgun tumbling from lifeless fingers. Chuck instinctively swung the scope around, and blinked in surprise. He'd forgotten about Sarah and Turner. Better than a hundred yards away, Sarah stood in the bed of Turner's pickup truck, with her Uzi leveled across the roof of the cab, bipod deployed and hunched tight in a secure shooting stance. It was better than a hundred fifty yards, which was long for a 9mm round. He didn't know why he was so surprised. His own efforts with the .22 at better than four times the distance had been at least effective as a distraction.

Sarah pulled up from the red-dot sight and breathed a sigh of relief, before pounding on the roof of the pickup with her fist, and clutching a handhold through the still open rear-window on the cab. Turner hit the gas and they quickly covered the last hundred or so yards. The old ex-sheriff hit the brakes again and skidded to a halt with his truck blocking in the car, so even if the remaining goon managed to get in and get it started he'd have to make his escape in reverse. Sarah leapt down and found the remaining thug from the diner in her sights. "Don't even think about it. The man still held an empty pistol, the slide locked back, but he had started over for the fallen shotgun. The man looked at Sarah, and then back at the shotgun, gauging his chances. Saraha put a three round burst into the ground between his feet. The man dropped his pistol and put his hands in the air. "Huh. Smarter than I gave you credit for," she muttered. Sarah closed the distance, careful to keep her Uzi trained on the man, and retrieved the shotgun. Meanwhile, Turner came out of the pickup with his deer rifle, and tossed the surviving cartel-thug-slash-deputy a pair of handcuffs.

Sarah peered over the edge into the grave. "Hey," she said, "quick thinking, jumping in the grave like that."

"We were trying to run away," the cook said. "Wendy tripped and knocked us in here."

Sarah shrugged and slung the Uzi over her shoulder. "Still, it worked out for the best. Here, let me give you a hand up."

"Who the hell are you, lady?" Wendy the waitress asked, accepting the hand.

Sarah grinned and hauled the woman up the side of the grave with a grunt of effort. "A concerned citizen," she said. "But introductions can wait. We need to move. When they don't report back in, the cartel will send reinforcements."

"Actually," the cook said when Sarah stooped to help haul her up out of the grave as well. "I heard one of them on his cell."

"Oh, well," Sarah said. She thrust the shotgun at Wendy the waitress, who held it like it was going to bite her, and shimmied out of her pack. "Guess I'd better hurry planting the charges."

"The- wait, what?" That from Turner, who was prodding their prisoner along ahead of him. "You said you were bringing those 'just in case'."

Sarah's grin bloomed again. "Yeah. In case we got an opportunity like this one."

Chuck frowned and slung his rifle, shimmying down the tree as Turner pulled his truck up to the copse of trees on the hill. Sarah slid out of the truck-bed and handed off the shotgun to Turner while Chuck came over. The ex-sheriff kept a watch on their prisoner."What's up?" Chuck said. "Why'd you text me not to call your cell?"

Turner grimaced and shook his head. "I'll let her tell you," he said. "Alright, ladies, now I'm giving you a sacred trust. Not just anyone gets to drive this ol' heap. We need to keep you out of sight for a while yet, and it's probably best if we get Connor here somewhere his friends won't find him." He nodded to Chuck and Sarah. "I'll come by and pick you up, just give me a call."

The other did a Chinese fire-drill and drove off, leaving Chuck and Sarah.

"So, what was he talking about?"

"Well... I just figured, with all the HE I've been mixing up, it'd be a shame not to put some of it to good use."

It was only another ten minutes or so before a pair of black SUVs rolled up on the abandoned sedan and the dead bodies. Men piled out of both SUVs, shouting and waving guns around. It took them a little while to get settled down looking for the bodies. Sarah could tell they were shouting through the scope on Turner's deer rifle. Judging from the hardware, the Cartel was taking the threat of gunfire seriously. Luckily, they hadn't really thought it through yet, and found the one spot where a sniper could be camped out effectively. Their training, what there was of it, obviously wasn't up to dealing with Sarah Walker. Perhaps they just weren't accustomed to the skill it took to put rounds on target from upwards of 600 yards, but they should have been. Pretty much any military the cartel would have run up against in South America had snipers who were good to at least 800 yards. Sarah wasn't about to try and duplicate Chuck's quixotic attempt to lob subsonic rounds better than a third of a mile. The standard .308 rifle bullets in her borrowed rifle went about twice as fast as a standard .22, and almost fully three times as fast as the subsonic rounds Chuck had been using.. Sarah gave the gunmen a few moments to run around and find all the bodies. It looked like the drivers were staying in their vehicles, which wasn't optimal, but she could work around it. The vehicles were right about where she thought they'd be, and her outlying charges should cripple the engines at the very least. "Okay, we're on," Sarah said, and hit dial on the cell phone she'd taken off the gunman she'd killed earlier, and held it to her ear. The six cartel gun-thugs stopped their shouting and looked around.

They didn't find the phone before it went to voicemail, and Sarah had to hang up and try it again before she got someone on the line.

"How the fuck you get this phone?"

"Come on now," she said. "Is that any way to talk to a lady?"

"You know who we are? You know what happens to people play games with us? Kill our guys?"

Sarah grinned at the bluster. "Yeah. Well, see that works both ways. And I'm not playing games, as should be evident from what's left of your 'guys.'"

"Fuck you."

"Not in this lifetime," Sarah said. "But before you say anything to make me... annoyed with you? I should point out I've got you in the sights of a very capable little deer rifle, and there are half a dozen pipe bombs buried around that car you're leaning against."

"Bullshit. You're just trying to bluff me."

"Put me on speaker. I don't want to kill your friends if they'd be willing to listen to reason."

"Fuck you!"

"Is that your final answer?"

"You know who you're fucking with?"

"Do you? First and only offer, tough guy. Lose the guns, get in the SUVs and drive south until you hit Mexico, or you're all dead men."

"You know what we're gonna do to you when we catch you, bitch?! We're gonna-"

Sarah held the phone away from her ear so she didn't have to hear the continued filth spewing out of the gunman's mouth, as he expanded on his point. Finally the man stopped for breath, and Sarah swivelled the phone back to her lips. "Gotta say. Seems unlikely," she said, and hung up. A moment, later, she tapped speed-dial 1. Three seconds later, after the signal had bounced to the nearest cell-tower and back to where she'd hardwired her own burner into the pipe bombs she'd buried at strategic locations around the scene of the firefight earlier. The sight-picture in her rifle-scope disappeared in a boil of dust, fire and smoke, and when it finally came back, none of the six gunmen were moving. For that matter only one or two of them were still in one piece rather than several. The two SUVs had settled on their blown out tires, and the abandoned car was on its side. It looked like one of the drivers had been killed by flying debris; the windshield was smashed in and there was an awful lot of blood on it. The other driver had managed to get out of his vehicle and was staggering and in shock, covered in dirt. He had a gun out, and she saw the muzzle flash, then a little later the report. Crack-crack-crack in the distance as he kept firing. He was shooting at random, and there was the odd chance he might actually manage to put a bullet through her or Chuck, so Sarah put him out of her misery with a single aimed round to the chest.

"What?" Sarah said. Chuck was looking a little green around the gills. "I gave them a chance."

Turner wasn't much better when they called him to come pick them up. The whole truck-ride back to his farm was spent in surly silence. As they pulled up to the barn, Sarah finally broke the silence. "You were the one who was complaining about the odds earlier. It _was_ 10-to-one, now its a little worse than five-to-one and we've got a prisoner to interrogate. I call that a good day's work."

"Jesus Christ," Turner muttered. "Did you even give them a chance to surrender?"

"I did," Sarah said. "They declined my terms."

"Shit. I thought you were just going to bluff them."

"That's what they thought. You can't let the bad guys call you on something like that and get away with it, Sheriff."

"Stop callin me that. I ain't the sheriff no more. And lucky for you. I'd have to arrest you for-shit how many dead?"

"Well, counting the one I shot before he could kill the hostages thats nine," Sarah said. Chuck had been uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange, and Sarah risked a glance at him. The greenish hue had faded a little, but he still didn't look so hot.

"I'm not counting that one, he was about to shoot Wendy and Nancy."

"Then why worry about the others. They'd have killed us if we gave them the opportunity. Though judging from my phone conversation, they have 'plans' for us before we go. So, I'm not too particularly concerned with the legal niceties at this point. And neither should you be, if you want to live through this."

"Where's the prisoner?" Sarah said. Turner nodded toward the back. "Got him cuffed to the radiator in the guest bedroom."

Sarah nodded and cracked her knuckles. "Good. I'll go get started."

Chuck put a hand on her shoulder. "Sarah," he said. The first word he'd said in a while. She paused and really met his eyes for the first time since she'd set off the pipe-bombs. She blinked and turned away, unsure how to deal with the sudden surge of emotion he'd somehow been able to send to her without words. It wasn't what she'd been afraid of; she'd been darkly expecting anger, or rejection or disgust. Sarah hadn't been remotely prepared for the concern and love she'd seen in his eyes. He wasn't trying to push her away, despite the fact... she could see it now, that she'd been doing just that same thing to him. Or at least preparing herself to do it. She'd been getting ready to build a wall between them out of her willingness to kill and his reluctance to. "We can get the information another way. You don't have to be the one to make him talk."

She found herself smiling. "Come on," she said. "Making people talk is a specialty."

Sarah led the way down the hall. "Seriously, we can find some other way," Chuck said.

"I appreciate it, Chuck. Really, sincerely, I do. But I kind of don't need you harping on this. Let me work, ok?"

Chuck grimaced and shook his head. "Sorry," he said, and that was all. Sarah was actually a little surprised by that. They came into the back bedroom and Chuck braced himself in the doorway, arms crossed defensively. Obviously he wasn't happy about the prospect of her torturing the prisoner. At least Turner seemed to have taken it in stride after the unplanned bloodbath half an hour ago.

The surviving 'deputy' from their encounter at the diner sat sullenly in a folding metal chair, hands cuffed to the frame and his feet duct-taped to the chair-legs. More duct-tape was over his mouth. As far as restraints went, duct tape wasn't really the best. It'd do in a pinch, but it could also be defeated by a determined prisoner if he was left alone long enough. The cuffs were pretty secure, since Sarah didn't expect the man to have a lockpick secreted on his person. He didn't seem the type for that kind of planning-ahead. But even then, a sufficiently determined prisoner could probably break one or both of his thumbs.

Sarah went over and ripped the duct-tape off the man's mouth.

"Aow! Fuck!"

"Hey, language," Sarah said. "Anyway. I want you to confess everything. Chuck will record it on his phone. I want every detail you can remember, of the operation."

"Uh, no."

"Well," Sarah said. "I only ask nicely once. But I'll give you a chance to reconsider. You know, your pals look like they're not too thrilled with you. Gravedigging at gunpoint the new fad?"

He winced and then pressed his lips together to avoid saying something incriminating.

"You know we've got the shovels and the tarps from the back of your car. Those will tie you to at least one body dump, I'm pretty sure. If you can give the FBI a bigger fish, you might even be able to swing witness protection, if the fish is big enough."

"You're FBI?"

"Not hardly," Sarah said.

"I want a deal."

"I did just say we weren't FBI, didn't I, Chuck?"

"You did," Chuck said. And then went quiet was a little discombobulating having Chuck be the taciturn one in their partnership.

"You tell us everything, and when the FBI finally does get off their collective hindparts we'll tell them how cooperative you've been."

"I want a deal in writing."

Sarah smiled sweetly. "Okay. Done asking nicely now. Chuck, go get me a hot coal, some butter and a pair of barbecue tongs."

"Wait, what?" Chuck and the prisoners said almost as one.

"Everybody talks," She said. "Sooner or later."

Their prisoner seemed to deflate momentarily, then he had a sudden resurgence. "You're bluffing! You wouldn't really..."

"Oh, but I would," Sarah said, locking eyes with the corrupt 'deputy'. "And I have. I'm something of an expert at making people talk. Chuck? My supplies."

"I'll see if Turner has any charcoal briquettes. Probably take a good fifteen minutes or so."

"That's fine." Chuck left and Sarah put the duct-tape back over the man's mouth. She sat on Turner's guest bed, tugged up the leg of her jeans to access her knives, retrieved one blade and tested the balance carefully. Then she set it aside and got her nail file and clippers out of her purse, and she did her nails. Without a care in the world. The silence stretched out, and the minutes crept by. Since she had the time, Sarah popped off her shoes and socks and did her toenails as well, whistling absently to herself to while away the time.

Eventually, Chuck came back with the requested items, including a steel mixing bowl and a pair of mitten-like hotpads to carry the hot coals in. Sarah nodded in appreciation, but then peered into the bowl and tsked. She used the tongs to lift one of the coals out and wave it in front of her face. "Oh, sorry. I'm going to need them a little hotter, a nice red-orange ought to do it. Sorry for the inconvenience." She patted him on the arm and put the coal back in the bowl, before retaking her spot on the bed. Sarah nodded to the prisoner, who was sweating profusely despite the AC working full bore. "It'll just be another couple of minutes, and we can get started," she told him. Then she leaned forward and blew gently on her toenails to dry them a little faster.

Behind his duct-tape gag, the prisoner began trying to talk, insistently. "What's that?" Sarah said. "Got something to say? Want to tell me all about your friends?"

He nodded vigorously.

Sarah sighed. "You know you just made us waste some perfectly good charcoal briquettes, don't you?" She ripped the duct tape off, and the prisoner started babbling all his worldly secrets.

"So, what was the butter for," Chuck said. "Just out of morbid curiosity."

"No idea," Sarah shrugged.

Chuck glared at her. "Really," he said. "I'm not judging, I just..."

"Seriously. I had no idea. It's... look, it was all psychology. The guy's in a no win situation anyway, right? Prime for psy-ops tactics. And that's what it was. They taught it to us at Langley. It's sort of a bluff that's not a bluff."

"Huh?"

"Meaning, if I had to I'd have burned him a little with the coal, but that was the last ditch effort. They say the prospect of death focuses the mind. CIA has found that in a lot of cases, the prospect of torture is more effective than the torture itself. You take a couple of items; a tool or utensil, a seemingly innocuous household object or food item, and one overtly threatening item. The subject's imagination comes up with something more horrific than you'd probably ever think of, and presto. Everybody talks."

"That's what they mean by that saying?"

Sarah shrugged. "We don't like to advertise that our officers _aren__'__t_ trained heavily in torture, so it all works out. Granted, sometimes the ploy doesn't work. But I've got a half dozen other tricks like that one to use. Really it all comes down to controlling your effect, not in any way shape or form letting the subject see any unease on your part about what you're going to do to them. Then when your assistant gets back with the requested items..."

"You find something objectionable and apologize for the delay, which completely fries their brain?"

Sarah shrugged again. Then she frowned. "You suspected I was up to something, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I saw the twinkle in your eye when you said you knew how to make people talk," Chuck said. "I don't ever remember that twinkle being involved in maiming or killing somebody. But torturer-Sarah was still kind of spooky."

"Are you afraid of me?"

Chuck laughed, "Girl, I've been afraid of you since our first date."

Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Well, one minute we're dancing, the next it's all throwing knives and lock-pick-guns and car chases and guns in my face, oh and bomb defusing. Granted, I'm amazing, but it was a little much when the most excitement I was really expecting was _maybe_a goodnight kiss when I dropped you off at your place. Didn't get any better when I flashed on you killing a bunch of dudes and shooting out a security camera the next day."

"But you obviously got over it, or I'm pretty sure last night wouldn't ever have happened." Sarah grinned at the blush that comment put on his cheeks.

"Yeah, fear management is one of my specialties," Chuck said. "In completely unrelated news. While our friend in there was spilling his guts for an hour, I decided to do some work on my end. I mean, I'm already inside the phone company's records from getting the tracking data on the diner goons' phones. And I've got the numbers for all the other cells I isolated in the phone tree."

"Great, what does that mean?"

"I've got realtime tracking on all the cartel boys' cell phones now. It looks like they sent a fair number of guys off around town looking for us. But they're staying clumped up. Harder for us to hit them all at once maybe?"

Sarah grimaced and shook her head. "That's not what they're doing. Damn, I thought we'd have more time."

"Sorry, could you explain? I think I missed an episode."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "They've got a shipment coming in. A couple tons of raw cocaine," she said. "And we were wrong about the missing people. They didn't 'disappear' them all. Just the trouble makers. The rest they're using as a slave labor force to unload the trucks and cut the coke with sugar or whatever it is they do. I'm not an expert on cocaine. Anyway. With the pressure we've put on them, this is their last shipment. They can't afford to lose the revenue on the shipment, but our continued ass-kicking means those hostages just became a big liability."

"Oh, hell," Chuck said. "As soon as they're done with this shipment they're going to kill them?"

"That's what Connor seems to think."

"Connor?"

"Our special guest," Sarah said. "He actually has a name. Who'd have thunk it, right?"

"Let me get on my computer. I've got an idea," Chuck said.

"Okay, roll with it. I've got a couple of ideas too. How attached are you to the 'bago?"

Chuck frowned and paused on his way to his laptop. "Uh, what?"

"We've got two sets of baddies looking for the thing now, it's just a liability," and I've got enough explosives and left-over diesel I could turn it into a pretty good FAE."

"Um... a what?"

"Fuel air explosive."

Chuck's mouth fell open for a long moment. Finally he stopped gawping and closed his mouth. "Is that necessary?"

"Hopefully not, but it's good to have an ace in the hole. If we can use the 'bago to draw them in, they'll have no choice but to surrender or wind up like their friends from this afternoon," Sarah made a comical fake explosion noise. "And if they wise up, we can probably get the diesel smell out. Eventually."

"Huh. I think I'm not 'diesel fumes' attached to the bago. If we do that, we might as well just leave it behind and finish the road trip in the other car. As far as plans go, it certainly has the advantage of being unexpected. You sure you can get the proportions right? Stoichiometry is kind of tricky sometimes."

Sarah batted her eyelashes. "But I've got the king of the nerds to help me."

Chuck heaved a put-upon sigh. "I've already got hacking to do, now you want me to do volumetric concentrations too? What'll you be doing while I'm doing all the math?"

"Lighting a fire under the FBI," Sarah said, the twinkle back in her eye.

"Special agent Chalmers," the bored voice said. "Reception says you have information on a kidnapping?"

"Well, yes. Thirty counts of kidnapping, four or five murders, vote buying, drug trafficking. I've got a couple of witnesses for you, and a prisoner involved who's willing to turn states' evidence." There was a muffled curse and a clump from the other end of the line as Special agent Chalmers nearly fell out of his chair.

"What!? Say that again?"

"I think you heard me the first time," Sarah said. But she explained on for a minute or two, and gave the FBI the list of names they had developed from the phone records and the coordinates for the processing plant. "Anyway, things have gotten kind of urgent in the last couple hours. There was a firefight with several cartel gun-thugs, resulting in roughly a dozen bodies,and the Cartel is going to be trying to tie up loose ends with their hostages and get out of dodge quick."

"Jesus," Chalmers said. "How many civilians dead? How many cartel."

"Like I said. A dozen."

"You said a dozen bodies..."  
"Yeah. Good guys 12, bad guys nothin, if you're keeping score."  
"Who the fuck are you?"

"Names are a funny thing, you know?" Sarah said. "Let's just say until quite recently I was employed by some Other Government Agency in a... paramilitary capacity, and leave it at that, shall we?"

"Oh Christ," the FBI man said. Other Government Agency was well known government slang for CIA.

"Moving along," Sarah said. "It's almost dark, and the cartel's getting in a new shipment of product. Once they get their prisoners finished processing it, they're going to liquidate the workforce. If you can get HRT off their fat asses in time to join the party you're welcome to. But if not, they can clean up after I'm done kicking ass."

"What'd I ever do to you?"

"Not me. Six months ago the outgoing sheriff came to you, and you told him to go suck eggs," Sarah said. "And in the process you let a town get terrorized for half a year, FBI."

Another voice intruded. "Actually they told me not to teach grandma to suck eggs. It's a slightly different-"

"God, you're worse than my dad, I'm on the _phone _sheriff Turner. Anyway, FBI. If you can get Hostage Rescue here in under two hours, they're welcome to tag along. But I'm not waiting any beyond that. The clock is ticking. You've got two hours till go time."

TO BE CONTINUED...

* * *

A/N: I realize this is an M rated story, and just by its very nature fewer people will be seeing it to even read it, much less leave reviews. I just want to say one more time how much I appreciate every one of those reviews because of that fact. Please keep them coming.


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